


Jagged Steel Throne

by Saerzion



Category: Fallout 3
Genre: Clones, F/M, Fallout Kink Meme, Horror, Mental Instability, Mystery, Sexual Abuse, Supernatural Elements, Torture
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-04-20
Updated: 2015-08-02
Packaged: 2018-03-25 02:12:19
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 6
Words: 28,172
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3792763
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Saerzion/pseuds/Saerzion
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Four years after abandoning the Capital to reign as master of the Pitt, a powerful and depraved Lone Wanderer returns for some unfinished business in the bowels of Vault 108, where the very first Gary clone may have information on her greatest threat: her own double. As a ruling force of the Wastes, she proclaims the other must die. Only one can exist; only one gets the throne.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

** Scourge of 108 **

The familiar sound of creaking metal and unlocking mechanisms grated on her nerves as the dilapidated door to Vault 108 groaned open. Four years after she'd left one of these subterranean hellholes for good, that particular noise still left a bitter taste in her mouth. Her numerous subordinates coughed at the dust and rust particles that flew into their faces, and she rolled her eyes from behind her biker goggles, silently daring any of them to complain after she had told them to wear respiratory protection. Adjusting the breathing mask over the lower half of her face, she led the way into the decrepit abyss.

"Lover, this is the first time I get to be with you after however many fucking years you've been gone," Clover whined from beside her, coughing after every few words. "It ain't no fun spending your first day back in this rundown old Vault."

"I already told you I'm only in the Capital to deal with a longstanding problem I just recently found out I had," she snapped, her sharp voice filtered through the breathing apparatus. "After it's taken care of, I'm heading right back to the Pitt."

"Yeah, back to your goddamn throne sitting on top of your industrial kingdom of slaves," Jericho drawled from Clover's other side as he removed a tattered handkerchief from over his nose. "Master of the Pitt, Queen of the Underworld. Ain't that right, Persephone? Some fancy titles you got there, but can't even remember the people who helped you along. 'Cept when you need us again. Like now."

She halted in her tracks so abruptly that her attending raiders almost bumped into her. Tightening her grip around the hilt of the Vampire's Edge sword secured at her waist, she pursed her lips and turned in a slow, methodical movement. The surroundings went quiet when she stepped toward him, cold eyes gleaming red as her cybernetic enhancements flared. Although Jericho stood his ground and fixed her with an equally vindictive expression, the slight waver in his gaze revealed his intimidation.

"And yet you still came running at my beck and call when I sent for you," Persephone declared, low and hard. Glancing at Clover's growing pout, she sneered. "Both of you did. Want to hold a grudge against me for leaving you like abandoned strays after that Project Purity shit was over? Fine. But be honest. You're here because as much as you might hate me, it's not enough. I gave you something when I plucked you from your meager existences and turned the Capital Wasteland upside down with you at my sides. Think I should be grateful for your help? You're the ones who should be thanking me. I gave you status. Thrill. Adventure. A purpose. I gave you _life_."

Her words echoed throughout the vast interior, and no one said anything to refute her statements. A muscled ticked in Jericho's jaw, but he merely scoffed and crossed his arms, glowering off to the side. She glared at both of her former companions in turn, sensing their discontent, but also their begrudging respect for her role in elevating their positions in the Wasteland hierarchy. Although they liked to deny it, she had brought them to power just as they had aided her to the top. Clover now controlled all slave trade in the Capital out of Paradise Falls, and Jericho now operated as the sole leader of Talon Company at Fort Bannister. All arrangements had been reciprocal.

The underlying issue, she believed, centered on envy more than anything.

And not toward her, either.

She switched her line of sight to the hulking, necrotic man awaiting her next order, the only companion she had kept by her side all these years. "Charon. Scout ahead to the living quarters. Use the map copy if you need to navigate around. Take out anything that moves until you regroup with us at the cloning lab."

He nodded once, not bothering to look at her as he drew his combat shotgun and went off alone.

She smiled derisively to herself. _And there lies the irony of it all. He stands at the place coveted by the other two, but he's the one who despises me with every fiber of his being._

Satisfied with the tense silence, she signaled for the rest of the group to follow her.

The sounds of their footsteps reverberated throughout the hollow halls of the underground facility. They numbered six in total, but Persephone considered the nameless half expendable. She focused on the ominous task ahead of her, feeling the sweat gather inside her combat armor as she consulted her Pip-Boy. Pulling up the local map, she studied the layout information acquired from some long ago terminal hack at the Vault-Tec headquarters. She had overlooked this particular Vault during her initial reaping of the Capital, an unfortunate mistake on her part, for unbeknownst to her at the time, something inside required purging.

And if it hadn't been such a dire issue, she wouldn't have bothered seeing to it herself.

They made their way past a series of corroded reactors still zapping short electrical charges. The first signs of life came in the form of mole rats, which she skewered one by one with lazy prods of her sword. As they neared the cloning lab, she steeled herself for what resided within. Oh, she'd already read the leaked entries about the Vault's purpose and the creation of the psychotic Gary clones. She had observed the corpse of an amputated one at the Outcast outpost. Those clones offered the lesser threat.

The _others_ , the ones created without consent, turned her belly into lead.

She spotted several discarded objects of Enclave property near the entrance to the lab. Her blood boiled at the large "E" symbol on the crates, and if she hadn't already ordered the eradication of their remnants across this region of the country, she would have done unspeakable horrors to all the personnel affiliated with this project.

"Can I just say somethin'? I don't understand why we're even here. What else could we have to worry about?" Clover piped up, scratching at her stomach through her worn leather vest. "We've kept everything all in order when you left us in charge, lover. We killed off the last of the Enclave earlier this year when you sent word. See, they're gone."

" _They_ are, but their work isn't," Persephone replied as she wiped the perspiration from the shaved side of her head and opened the lab door. "You remember hearing about them knocking me out when I was in Vault 87 and dragging me to Raven Rock. Years after the fact, I learned they took something from me while I was there. This is where it ended up."

"I'm surprised you didn't just send your runners to tell us to come over here and get it back for you," Jericho remarked, still sounding sore.

Persephone grabbed her plasma rifle from over her shoulder and proceeded forward. "It's not something to take back. It's something to destroy. And _I_ need to make sure of it."

She sensed the questions hitting her from behind, but chose to ignore them. The answer would come soon enough.

They progressed down several flights of stairs, using the limited light sources to guide themselves. Fewer fluorescent bulbs still worked the deeper they descended, flickering over the decaying surfaces as they passed. Persephone glimpsed several old bloodstains on the walls, her boots crunching over the glass of broken test tubes. Even through her breathing mask, she smelled something foul; something either dead and decomposing or still alive and rotting.

In the distance, she heard the familiar blast of Charon's shotgun. Once, twice, three times in quick succession. She wondered what he had run into. Before she could mull over it, a figure rounded the corner and darted toward her.

" _Gary_!"

Caught by surprise, Persephone took a heavy knife slash to her left cheekbone. She swore at the assailant, firing her plasma rifle twice into its chest. It gurgled and crumpled into a heap at once, the combat knife clattering to the floor several feet away.

"Christ, what the fuck!" Jericho yelled as the raiders echoed with similar expletives. "People are still living down here?"

Persephone reached up and pressed her fingers to the new burning gash on her face, feeling the adamantium bone beneath the exposed tissue. "Goddamn. I don't know how I didn't detect it."

Clover bent down over the clone, reading the designated number on the right shoulder of its jumpsuit. "'Gary 43'?"

"That means it's the forty-third clone out of more than fifty, if my sources are correct," Persephone said, injecting a stimpak directly into her cheek below the bleeding wound. "Get used to it. I don't know how many are still in here since they scattered over the past two hundred years, but they're all insane, hostile, and dumb as shit. They won't be that much of an issue if my fucking Pip-Boy would actually pick them up on the radar."

"But they're not what we're here for, right?" Jericho asked, giving the clone's leg a hard kick. "Why're you keeping us in the dark?"

She tossed the empty syringe aside and frowned down at Gary 43's frozen expression of rage. _Because trust is a very expensive commodity these days._

Instead of responding out loud, she motioned for them to continue on, her harsh scowl leaving no room for argument.

They ran into at least a dozen more Gary clones, each one only able to scream its own name. The gunfire drew one after another until a pile of dismembered body parts lay on the ground below the last set of stairs. Clover wiped her bloody sledgehammer on her skirt as Jericho performed quick repairs on his hunting rifle. Persephone glanced at her three Pitt raiders, two shooting themselves up with Med-X while the third lay dead. As far as casualties went, not bad at all.

Stepping over several Gary heads and pools of blood, she grimaced at the increasingly putrid stench, which now permeated the air. The others made gagging noises as they trailed after her, and one raider paused to vomit in a corner. She cranked up the filtration in her mask, but it did little to spare her from the odor. Once she reached the bottom of the stairs, a look at her Pip-Boy map told her they had entered the heart of the facility.

A wide corridor loomed in front of them, illuminated in the center by one remaining fluorescent light. The stillness raised her caution, as the atmosphere felt off, eerie. She surveyed the dark observation rooms on either side of the hallway, shining her flashlight through the glass, but seeing nothing inside. Her footfalls became soundless as she inched forward, fingers tight around the stock and barrel of her weapon as she listened.

_This doesn't feel right. Something's here. And it's coming._

Persephone squinted at the brush of movement up ahead. She raised her arm to stop the group behind her. A dragging sound reached their ears, alternating with loud, raspy breathing. As she readied her plasma rifle, a figure came into view from the other end of the corridor. It limped toward them at a slow pace, irregularly shaped and shuddering the whole way. She made out a lumpy mass for a body, the spine curved to a horrendous form of scoliosis, and four deformed limbs jutting out from the torso. Some sort of dirty white fabric had been draped over it as a garment, and she concentrated on its face, waiting for it to enter the shine of the light.

And when it did, she experienced something akin to terror for the first time in many years.

The head appeared fixed in an angled position, the face bloated beyond recognition and covered in pustules. One eye was missing, but the other sported an iris the same shade of green hers had been before her body modifications. Although its hair hung in missing patches, it matched the chestnut color of her long braid. And when it opened its twisted mouth, it spoke with her voice.

" _PROOOOSSSSSEEEERRRPIIIIINNNAAAAA!_ "

Persephone jolted when it broke into an unexpected run, its entire form half-hobbling half-leaping as it reached out for her. A barrage of microfusion cells blasted from her plasma rifle, hitting various points of its front and turning chunks of flesh into green goo. It collapsed flat on its face before it came within ten feet of her, but she had to disguise the tremor in her hands, as the reality of its existence chilled her to the bone.

"What. The fuck. Is that thing?" Jericho demanded, sounding as uneasy as she secretly felt.

Clover's hand grasped onto her arm. "I-I don't want to be here anymore. I'd rather go up against feral ghouls and deathclaws."

Persephone shook her off and forced herself to approach the corpse. The rancid smell emanated from it in waves, made worse by the discolored bodily fluids leaking out of its orifices. She circled it and leaned closer when she noticed some written black text on the back of its garment, realizing it was a label that served the same purpose as the ones on the Gary clones' jumpsuits.

_Persephone 13._

She straightened and reloaded her weapon in an effort to bring her vitals back down to normal. "The Enclave created twenty-eight total, so there are twenty-seven more of these things lurking around in here. I'm going to keep count on my Pip-Boy. We need to kill every last one."

"But what _are_ they?" Clover inquired, standing a bit behind Jericho as she shot a look of revulsion at the dead creature.

Persephone gave it one last grim stare before turning toward the far end of the corridor, where the rest of Vault 108 finally stirred to life. "Me."

She led the charge through every section of the cloning lab, encountering more Garys in addition to the varying results of her scientifically mutated DNA. Her clones ranged from other hideous monsters to more human-looking replicas. Every single one unnerved her, as she had to meet her own eyes every time she put one down. Some were more hostile than others, and, in a surprising development, it seemed the Gary clones had left them alone all these years. Had Persephone not been in the midst of searing blood rage at that moment, she might have stepped back to study their dynamics.

As she grew accustomed to shooting down the abominations, she searched for other signs of Enclave occupation throughout the lab. No other Enclave-labeled equipment lay in sight anywhere in this wing, and she frowned when exiting the fifth room, tucking away that detail for future contemplation. Her group members had worked themselves into a frenzy, obliterating everything that came at them. Clover had gone over the edge at some point, mowing down every clone in her vicinity in an attempt to speed up the job so they could leave sooner. Another raider had perished somewhere back in the second observation room, but Persephone spared him little thought. She checked her Pip-Boy tally and saw that only eight of her clones remained, not counting any Charon may have wiped out in the living quarters.

Breaths heaving, she and her companions took a short break in the middle of an adjacent corridor that wrapped around to the central lab area. She wiped the blood and sweat from her forehead as the others administered stimpaks to themselves. When one of the connecting doors slid open, they all swung their weapons in its direction, but the individual that emerged stayed their hands.

"Charon," Persephone called out, lowering her plasma rifle and noting the dark stains on his leather armor. "How many?"

He stationed himself a few paces from her. "Five of the male clones. Six of yours."

"Hold up, so _he_ gets to know the details but we don't?" Jericho growled.

"It's why I sent him alone. We'd cover ground faster this way," Persephone answered as she shifted her mask and produced a Jet inhaler from her pack. "Anyway, he was there when I found out about this in the first place."

"Sugar, you really should let us know when you're bringing us along to kill off your doppelgangers from hell," Clover told her, picking out guts from her short tuft of blonde hair. "I ain't never seen anything like those things."

A crack splintered the air as Persephone crushed the inhaler to dust in her palm. "I didn't reveal what they were because I don't need this shit spreading around. I had to wait until only the three of you—oh, you're still alive?" she snarled at the last Pitt raider. He jumped when she pointed her weapon at him. "We've cleared out most of the place, so you're no longer needed."

Before he could even get a word out, he disintegrated into a pile of glowing goo.

"…Was that necessary?" Charon muttered.

Persephone glared at him briefly and brandished the plasma rifle. "As I was saying. I had to wait until the witnesses were down to you three. If, after we're done here, one of you breathes a word of what you've seen, I _will_ find out and I _will_ kill you. _No one_ outside this group can know. That is an order."

The expressions around her varied from puzzled to vexed to indifferent. She expected as much, but she'd done what was necessary. Now only two clones served as threats, and in the next few minutes, the problem would be resolved. She replaced her breathing mask and gestured to the last room: the central lab.

"Let's finish this."

She crept to the door, pushing the button to open it. When nothing reacted to her intrusion, she shined her flashlight ahead, roving it over the abandoned research desks and terminals. The large space housed three times as many supplies and equipment as the other rooms, but again, no signs of any Enclave property.

Persephone ventured inside and peered around, her brow furrowing. The smell of rot from the corridors was noticeably absent in here. She lowered her mask again and whispered to the others to spread out, wondering if the clones had even heard them yet. A pair of overturned desks lay near a wall to the far left, and she opted to investigate them when a faint indicator on her Pip-Boy interface blinked toward that section. As she approached, the indicator grew larger. Her mouth lifted into a smirk when she reached the first desk, which overlapped with the second to create a small crevice. Seizing one of its upturned legs, she yanked it out of the way and aimed her plasma rifle at the figure nestled against the wall.

However, a split second later, she froze.

The pale figure uncurled from the ball it had been positioned in, casting wide green eyes up at her. High cheekbones and a slender jaw defined its face, shapely pink lips forming an "O" of surprise. Long waves of chestnut brown hair fell over its shoulders. It wore a grimy patient gown, and when it straightened to sit on its haunches, its skinny frame showed no spinal deformation. Both hands bent in odd angles, and it kept its arms close to its chest in some sort of defensive pose, but the rest of it appeared anatomically correct.

Persephone blanched. An almost-perfect clone. It looked exactly like her before she'd augmented herself with cybernetics, but with an odd sort of innocence she had never possessed.

_Holy fuck._

"Proserpina?" it inquired in her voice, sounding curious. "Proserpina?"

Persephone's teeth clenched as she removed her biker goggles. Not only was it clearly more advanced than the other clones, it proved to be the only civilized one. _This is exactly what I was worried about. It has the ability to function and learn. It's intelligent._

"Proserpina?"

_…Although not smart enough to say my name right. Did the Enclave program all the clones to do that on purpose?_

Her finger began to squeeze the trigger of the plasma rifle, aiming straight for the clone's heart. "It's 'Persephone,' you replicated bitch."

" _GARY_!"

Something heavy smashed into the side of her head, sending her staggering to the right as her weapon flew out of her hands. She crashed into a metal table and growled out a stream of profanity when she bit her lower lip hard enough to draw blood. Snapping her furious gaze to the source of the assault, she witnessed a Gary clone grabbing the desk she had moved and pushing it back so that the figure on the floor disappeared from view. He then spun around to face her, teeth bared and stance aggressive, drawing a 10mm pistol as he stood between them. She hesitated when he refrained from attacking her, taking in the way he merely hovered there, blocking, guarding…

And then comprehension hit.

He had _hidden_ her clone. He was _protecting_ it.

A bullet grazed his right arm and ricocheted off the surface of the desk. Enraged, he opened fire on her companions, who advanced on him from the other side of the room.

"Wait!" Persephone cried, shoving off from the table.

She tackled the Gary clone to the ground before one of the shots managed to kill him. Using the weight of her adamantium bones to her advantage, she pinned him down and snatched the pistol from his grip to toss it behind her. He thrashed around and bellowed his own name over and over as her companions skidded to a halt a few feet away. She tapped into her synthetic strength and drove her boot into one of his legs, breaking the fibula. His howl of pain filled the entire space as she quickly tore off her breathing mask and used its strap to tie his wrists together behind his back. During the struggle, she had spotted the numeral designation on his right shoulder.

_Gary 1. The first Gary clone._

Jericho waved the barrel of his rifle at him. "What're you doing with that one?"

Breathing hard from the exertion, Persephone hauled Gary 1 to his feet, supporting his weight when he nearly collapsed again. "Let me show you something interesting. Charon, push those desks apart."

The ghoul did as told, sliding both pieces of furniture to opposite sides of the floor. He tensed when he discovered what lay beneath, backing away slowly so the rest of them could see. Clover gasped as the clone peered up at all of them, and Jericho murmured an oath when it flinched from the beam of Persephone's flashlight.

"She… looks just like you," Charon commented, unable to take his eyes away from it.

Persephone bristled, shaking Gary 1 when he tried to move toward her clone. " _It_ is the closest in resemblance compared to those other monstrosities, but it's leagues away from an exact copy."

"Proserpina," the clone mewed when it glimpsed Gary 1.

He made a shrill noise and tugged at his restraints, but Persephone held on tight with her free hand as she continued pointing the flashlight straight ahead.

"The Gary clones were supposedly hostile and murderous toward everything except each other, but they allowed my clones to live amongst them," she stated, licking away the blood on her lower lip. "From what we saw out there, both sets of clones ignored each other and kept to themselves. No sense of community or cohesion, though I don't know how the Garys could stand the smell of the most mutated ones."

Her clone began to crawl toward them, seemingly mild-mannered and inquisitive. Its malformed hands slipped on the floor a few times, but it progressed toward Gary 1, the look in its gaze almost sweet. Charon twitched in the slightest, as if about to step closer to it.

Persephone did not miss the movement. A malicious grin spread over her mouth. "Charon. Shoot it."

In a rare moment of unguarded emotion, he whirled on her in shock. "What?"

"You heard me," she said, knowing very well he couldn't defy her. "This particular Gary clone seems to behave differently than the others. He was actively protecting this clone. He went through the trouble of keeping it hidden and even defended it when I was about to fire. It's obvious there's something special about this one. I want to see what happens when he has to watch it die."

Charon actually stayed paralyzed for a good thirty seconds, his countenance dark as he regarded her.

"That's a little cold, lover," Clover remarked, studying the clone. "She's kind of cute, to be honest. You sure I can't have her to keep me warm while you're far away at the Pitt?"

"I say waste her," Jericho chimed in. "That thing might be trouble if we let it live. We came here to do a job, so let's get on with it."

"Precisely," Persephone agreed, narrowed eyes still fixed on Charon. "Well?"

A flash of animosity hardened his features for a brief second, but he pumped his shotgun once and aimed it at the clone.

Gary 1 stiffened, glancing back and forth between the firearm and the figure crawling on the floor. "Gary?"

The shotgun erupted at almost point-blank range, spattering skull and matter as her clone's entire head exploded.

Gary 1 let out an ear-piercing scream, a terrible sound of anguish that cut all the way to Persephone's core. She reared back a fist and delivered a blow to his solar plexus, knocking the wind out of him. As he doubled over, coughing, she snickered at the ridiculous love story that had been at work there. Two artificial beings overcoming their own cognitive limitations to form a mockery of human bonds. It was so heartwarmingly beautiful, she thought she might throw up.

More than a bit smug, she gazed down at the headless carcass and read the label on its back.

_Persephone 27._

"All right, so that leaves just one of my clones to take care of," she announced, reaching for her sword to kill the bereaving Gary 1.

"But… there ain't no one else here, sugar," Clover informed her. "We did a thorough check of the place. Everything else is already dead."

Persephone went very still. "No. I've kept track. There's one missing. We have to find it."

Jericho groaned. "You're not gonna make us backtrack through the whole damn Vault, are you?"

She wrapped her fingers around Gary 1's forearms and squeezed hard, her eyes glowing crimson red. "Every level. Every fucking nook and cranny. I'm going to stay here and triple check the record. Don't come back until you've searched every inch of this Vault. So get going. _Now_!"

Clover rushed out the door on the east side while Jericho grumbled to himself and stomped after her. Charon, stony and silent, secured his shotgun at his back and filed out through the west side. Persephone shoved the still-mourning and crippled Gary 1 to the floor, allowing him to drag himself to Persephone 27's remains. She activated her Pip-Boy's records and glowered at the accurate number of clone kills. The last one _had_ to be here somewhere. And she had confirmed at least a dozen times that the Enclave created exactly twenty-eight clones before abandoning the project.

Unfortunately, several minutes later, all three companions returned to report that no other living thing remained in the Vault.

"Goddammit. Where could it have gone?" she seethed, drawing her sword. Prodding Gary 1 with it, she barked, "Tell me where it is."

He paid her no heed at first, but she bent down and grabbed a fistful of his jumpsuit to pull him back to his feet.

"You're obviously not as far gone as all your psychotic brethren," she snarled, trying to get him to look at her. "And you're the only one who would know. Where is Persephone 28?"

"Gary," he choked out, still trying to peer at the corpse.

"He's got nothing," Jericho said and brought the tip of his barrel to Gary 1's temple. "Let me get rid of him, and we can head back to your place to regroup and figure this out."

Persephone had half a mind to agree, but then Gary 1 finally turned and caught sight of her face in the beam of the flashlight. She paused when he did, vague recognition and calculation churning in his dark eyes. He looked from her to Persephone 27, and back again. The grief evaporated from his expression as he stared at her, seeming to make some sort of connection in his head.

An idea struck her. "Hang on. He looks like he has the ability to rationalize. To a point, anyway," she declared when he blinked at her stupidly. "He isn't hostile to me because I have the same face as his little girlfriend over there. I guess I'll just have to bring him back to Underworld and try to get answers."

Charon's entire spine went rigid.

Clover shifted her weight and placed a hand on her hip. "Honey, he ain't the brightest bulb in the Wastes, and he's got more than a few screws loose. You think you can get him to tell you anything besides his name?"

"I don't know, but I'm taking any lead I can get to track down the final clone. The last thing I need is my double running around the Wasteland, trying to usurp me. We can't have that," Persephone hissed, spinning the confused Gary 1 around to begin marching him out. "There's only one person whose ass can sit on my jagged steel throne, and that bitch is me."


	2. Chapter 2

** Queen of the Underworld **

She presided from her seat of torn velvet and steel, a smaller scaled replica of the throne of the Pitt. Long, serrated shards of metal jutted out at all angles from the back, reflecting crimson and black from the reworked Underworld banners hanging overhead. The ceiling lights cast her in both luminescence and shadow, an ominous appearance fitting for a corrupt queen. Slavers and mercenaries alike stood on standby amidst the rubble and broken exhibit pieces that littered the perimeter of the floor. Tension saturated the air as they tried not to peer at her, for a maelstrom brewed beneath that rigid demeanor.

To the left, Jericho and Clover guarded the doors to what was once Carol's Place, now her personal quarters. To the right, Charon hovered in front of the closed doorway of the Ninth Circle, his original home base. She sat in the center of it all, dressed head to toe in studded leather, long chestnut brown hair flowing free like winding serpents. Austere and overbearing, the stillness of her posture served as a telltale sign of imminent brutality.

Finally, after a long interlude of waiting, a cut in the silence set the place into motion.

Her long fingernails drummed on one silver armrest as the sound of clinking chains echoed from the lobby and up the stairs before filling the revamped reception hall. She watched as two Pitt raiders dragged in an exhausted prisoner, his ratty attire and unkempt blond hair covered in dirt from the long trek to the Capital. They shoved him to his knees before her, right in the middle of the leering crowd. The atmosphere turned predatory, oppressive. She leaned forward in expectation, a sinister glint in her eye.

"So you made it after all," Persephone began, checking her temper when he glowered at her in response. "I'm sure someone can explain to me why I've had to wait nearly an hour?"

One of the raiders, holding the chain to the shackles, snapped it like a whip to strike the prisoner across the neck. "We were makin' good time 'til this piece of shit decided to lure a group of deathclaws over when we were passing by Old Olney, like that was supposed to help him escape," she declared, scowling. "Dumbass forgot deathclaws will kill everything in sight—including him—without his fancy Enclave mind-controlling gear."

Persephone tilted her head and regarded the prisoner, voice cold as she drawled, "That desperate, are you? How does it feel being the last remaining residue of a power I completely annihilated up and down the east coast?"

"You haven't beaten the Enclave," the former officer spat, baring his teeth at her. "We'll rise in the east again. And when that happens, you and your army of delusional savages will end up as sticky green puddles under our boots."

She raised an eyebrow as her subordinates jeered around them. Searing wrath coiled inside her, churning and heightening before she reigned it in and managed a deceptive smile. Her nails raked into her metal armrests, emitting a shrill scraping noise that caused most occupants of the area to wince or cry out. She kept her sight fixed on the prisoner, who flinched for a split second before resuming his glare of condemnation.

"Everyone else get out," she ordered, ceasing the auditory assault and rising to her feet. "Jericho, Clover, take your people and go occupy yourselves outside. This may take a while."

Her allies exchanged a glance, but complied without question. Ushering their respective groups along, they exited the hall. The Pitt raiders dropped the chains and followed suit when Persephone eyed them, dragging the makeshift steel doors of the entrance closed as they left. Charon remained in his spot by the Ninth Circle, statuesque and unmoving, knowing his place as her right hand.

With the space free of witnesses, Persephone smirked at the prisoner. "You seem to have gotten a mouth on you after my departure from the Pitt. Fortunately for you, I will be putting it to use."

"I know why you had me taken here. I'm not telling you anything more of the cloning research," he growled, drawing up his emaciated shoulders beneath his grimy shirt.

She sauntered toward him, crossing her arms over her chest. "Oh? Remember what happened when we first caught you outside the Pitt? Some lost little Enclave dog fleeing from the purge in the Capital, only to walk right into the territory of the person responsible. You were so very helpful when we had your hands on the chopping block. Spilling all the Enclave's secrets, their base locations, and even their hidden science project using my genetic material. And now you're saying you won't cooperate anymore?" She clicked her tongue as she towered over him, numerous lines of red and orange glowing beneath her skin. "Well, at this point, you have two options. One, you can change your mind of your own accord. Or two, I can change it for you. Take your pick because death isn't a mercy you'll be getting beforehand."

His jaw hardened as he dropped his gaze to his bound wrists, where only seven fingers remained on his hands. "I gave up that information as a bargaining chip because I was promised a place in your ranks. But I ended up as a slave, so you'll have to excuse me for telling you to go fuck yourself. Cunt."

Faster than the blink of an eye, she seized the steel collar around his neck and yanked him up.

"Just remember," she rumbled, holding him in place with one hand as her other grabbed his right index finger, "you made the choice."

A sickening crack split the air as she broke it cleanly in half. His shriek of agony reached impressive decibels when she went on to twist the ruined digit, and he sank back to the floor as he shouted for her to relent. She basked in his pained yowling, almost hearing his willpower crumble to nothing. A chuckle of sadistic glee worked its way up her throat, but Charon gave an indiscreet cough that dispelled her humor, leaving only simmering rage.

Persephone released the prisoner's finger after several more seconds, although she held onto his collar to keep him propped on his knees. "I'm out of patience, and you're going to be out of fingers if you don't answer my questions accurately," she snarled, giving the collar a hard jerk. "There was no way the Enclave could have done the project in the cloning lab of Vault 108. I didn't find any of their equipment past the reactor room, and the hostile Gary clones would have been a detriment to their work." She bent closer, her stare burning into his scrunched features. "Where did they create the Persephone clones?"

He issued a strained noise, but recoiled when she reached for his next finger. "Adams Air Force Base! The housing district was a front for the cloning facility," he choked out, cradling his phalanges against himself. "I wasn't in the science division, so fuck if I know the details. But you already nuked the whole damn base with that orbital strike years ago. There's nothing left."

She contemplated that, frowning. "Then all twenty-eight clones had already been transferred to Vault 108 before I even left for the Pitt. What was the purpose of the relocation? The Enclave couldn't have known I'd been about to blow Adams to hell."

The prisoner cringed and shook his head as if unable to recall some vague memory. "I don't know."

Her lip curled as she gripped and snapped another of his fingers, earning a second series of wails. "Think. Harder."

A tingling sensation at her spine told her of the grim intensity with which Charon viewed the scene. She shook off the pinpricks of disapproval emanating from behind her, directing her full focus on the prisoner.

"You have five seconds to answer," she warned the howling man in her clutches.

He quieted down and took a number of shuddering breaths. "S-something about studying and comparing them with the results of the old world cloning technology. Basically pitting them against the Gary prototypes," he said through clenched teeth. "Never knew why the team bothered. The first half of your clones were disposable mutants, anyway."

Persephone tossed him to the floor and paced the length of the hall. "Each successive clone was more advanced than the previous one. The second to last was too close of an imitation for comfort, and now the final clone is missing." She stopped and rotated toward him, eyes narrowing to slits. "I should have asked this from the start. What did the Enclave possibly hope to accomplish by cloning me?"

He peered up at her from his hunched over position, expression frozen in a sheet of white.

"Well?"

A few beats passed before he swallowed, sending her a baleful look. "Everyone knows who you were before. Some Vault brat with a white knight complex trying to right the wrongs in the world. Hoping to help Wasteland scum onto better paths, turn them into better people. Like your two lieutenants, right? And that guy?" He jerked his head toward Charon, who remained silent.

Persephone stiffened and curled one hand into a fist, her sharp nails cutting into her palm until a few drops of blood trickled down.

"Then the eggheads at Raven Rock found out about your mutations, back before you did all that cybernetic modding shit on yourself. The ability to harden your skin to bark? Heal your injuries from drinking human blood? Gain super strength just from standing in the sunlight? Who _wouldn't_ want to get samples of that?"

"What, so the Enclave planned to mass produce an army of me, is that it?" Persephone demanded, now twice as glad she had seen to the abolition of their forces across this side of the country.

"No. Our tech wasn't good enough to accomplish something like that even within thirty years. The goal was always one clone, one strain-carrier…" He trailed off, a blank shroud suddenly falling over his countenance. "That's… that's all there is to it."

Persephone analyzed his guarded demeanor. She strode over and hauled him up by the collar again, leaning in close. "And what was the Enclave planning on doing with this one perfect clone?" she hissed.

But he had shut down, and he muttered something about the story ending there. She studied the dilation of his pupils, saw the beads of sweat that gathered on his brow. The hard line of his mouth indicated a conscious effort to conceal further information. A ticking began in her temple, insistent and maddening. Some of his resilience had recovered, and he watched her in renewed defiance as she stared him down. Stubborn. Obstinate. No matter the number of fingers she broke, he seemed inclined to take the Enclave's last secrets to the grave.

This wouldn't stand. She would get what she wanted. _No one_ denied her that which she sought.

The internal ticking stopped.

In a flash, she grasped his bound wrists and brought them to her mouth, clamping her teeth around one of his thumbs and biting straight through skin and bone. Blood gushed over her tongue as he screamed, and she wrenched her head from side to side to tear the severed digit from its remaining ligaments. She imagined how this pain compared to the breaks, even compared to the clean knife chops that had removed his first three fingers at the Pitt.

_If you insist on being difficult, this is only the beginning._

Persephone held his chin in place so he could see his thumb rolling between her teeth. His cries died down to whimpers as he gawked at her in horror, the full realization of her insanity registering in his eyes. And with the digit still in her mouth, she gave him a nasty smile.

At that moment, he went limp, spirit shattered.

"Fine, you crazy fucking bitch," he sniveled, placing his mutilated hands against his shirt to stave off the bleeding.

Her smile widened, red dribbling down her chin.

"It was called 'Project Proserpina.' I was the officer in charge of its security detail," he told her, barely above a whisper, unable to look her way. "When you died after activating the purifier at the Jefferson Memorial, Persephone 28—Proserpina—was supposed to take your place."

She froze as the temperature around them plummeted.

"The strongest woman in the Wastes, but in Enclave colors, leading Enclave forces. That was the whole point of it," the prisoner stated, glaring at the floor. "But then you fucking came back and hunted us down. They never finished the project; just abandoned your clones and ran. Months of work down the drain because you were a monster out of hell when you came back from the dead."

He yelped when Persephone spat his own thumb in his face, bringing up his wrists to frantically wipe at his cheeks as she dropped him for a second time. He crumpled into a trembling heap while she loomed over him, her tongue darting out to lap at the blood on her lips and labret piercing. Seconds went by as she considered his words. Monster out of hell? What an unflattering description.

She fancied herself the devil incarnate.

The hall resonated with his muffled sobs as she deliberated on the next course of action. Her inquiries had been answered, yet her gut told her a variable remained hidden. One look at him made it clear he had reached his limit, but she would push him beyond even that until she was satisfied.

Spinning on her heel, she made her way back to her seat. The velvet cushion sank beneath her weight as she sat down and crossed her legs. Propping her chin on her hand over the armrest, she shifted her stony gaze to the individual waiting in the wings.

“Charon, remove this man’s extremities one by one until we find the missing bit of info in his story,” Persephone commanded. “I’d do it myself, but I’ve had enough of the smell of him.”

Wordlessly, the ghoul budged from his spot to do as told.

“W-what?” the prisoner shrieked, cowering away from Charon’s lumbering form. “I told you everything I know already! I don’t have anything else!”

“Then you’ll be torn limb from limb until _I_ can be sure of that,” she replied, cool and detached. “Besides, this is the least you can do to make it up to me. Regardless of whatever position you held in the Enclave, you had a role in this fiasco. When you try to replace an original, you are going to pay the price.”

x-x-x-x-x

Persephone observed the situation from behind the glass windows, hands on her hips, scowling. Gary 1 strained against the leather straps secured around his wrists and ankles, which bound him upright against the far wall of the observation area. Fresh lacerations covered his skin from his neck to his chest, the top half of his jumpsuit having been torn open at the front. Dirt clung to his cropped sable hair as he tried to swipe at the approaching raider, who skirted around him in an attempt to change his water bowl.

A safe distance away by the door, an enslaved scientist quivered as she held an armful of flashcards and recited the alphabet at him. In the following minutes, she sent an occasional pleading look toward the individuals watching from the infirmary, but Clover pounded her fist against the window and snapped at her to focus on her task. The sound only incensed Gary 1 further, and he managed to yank his restraints far enough to kick the raider in the face.

“I see there has been little progress in the past week and a half,” Persephone commented in a terse tone as a stream of cursing erupted from inside the room. “That thing is still a wild animal.”

“Sorry, lover,” Clover sighed, rubbing her forehead. “Gary just ain’t responding no matter what Jericho or I throw at him. We’ve played teacher, torturer, good cop, bad cop, you name it. Nothin’. Just yells his name all damn day and tries to gut us.”

“Here’s a thought. How about _you_ take your ass in there and see if that gets you anywhere with him, Persephone?” Jericho suggested irritably from his chair next to the old Chop Shop terminal. “You’re the one who wanted him to learn to talk right. And you’re the only one he hasn’t tried to strangle.”

She flashed her eyes at him in warning, but turned back to the sight of the raider sporting a bloody nose as he hurled the water bowl at an adjacent wall and stomped out. Gary 1 continued with his enraged growling all the while, his biceps and pectoral muscles flexing as he struggled to free himself. When he broke through one of the worn straps, the harrowed slave dropped her flashcards and pounded on the door after the raider had already locked it behind him.

“For fuck’s sake,” Persephone muttered, grabbing a nearby bucket of reserve water. “Clover, get that useless hag out of there and back into the pens. I’ll deal with the clone myself.”

Once Clover opened the door and pulled the panicking woman out by the hair, Persephone snatched another set of straps on her way to the observation room. Fuming over the incompetence of the reeducation team, she stepped inside and felt her temper go off when Gary 1’s roaring assailed her ears.

“ _BE QUIET_ ,” she bellowed, the explosive vocalization drowning out all other noise in the entire building.

He stopped at once, his features going from furious to anticipative when he recognized her. She walked up to him and unceremoniously dumped the bucket of water over his head, earning a startled bark as the irradiated liquid spilled over his open wounds.

“Suck it up, worm,” she griped, dropping the bucket and clamping onto his freed wrist to tie it back to the wall bolt. “You’re proving to be more trouble than you’re worth.”

Gary 1 blinked against the water running over his face and then squinted up at her from beneath his dripping hair. “Gary?”

She ignored him and finished securing the strap, taking a step back to look him over. The reports on his unusual physiology came to mind as she noted his lack of hair growth in the days since his capture—no stubble, no additional length to the smooth strands on his head. Perspiration appeared minimal, as he emitted no body odor despite the lack of bathing. Injury sustainment and healing seemed normal, but although he clearly felt pain, Jericho had claimed it didn’t hinder his physical strength and endurance. Overall, he would have been a wonder of a humanoid being if not for the cognitive shortcomings and underdeveloped language center.

Persephone frowned, scratching at the long scar over her left cheekbone. _What is it going to take for you to start speaking?_

He had calmed down considerably in her presence, his brown eyes boring into hers as if searching for something. She stared at him a moment longer before rotating to pick up one of the discarded flashcards—G. Advancing on him, she held it in his line of sight.

“Let’s start with something easy enough for even a half-brained creature like you to understand. This is ‘G.’ For ‘Gary.’”

“Gary?”

“Right. Gary. ‘Guh.’ That sound right there.”

“Ga—”

“’Guh.’”

“G—”

“That,” Persephone declared, reinforcing the progress by adjusting one of his wrist restraints to alleviate some of his physical discomfort. “That is the sound G makes. Now pronounce the letter itself. ‘Gee.’”

“Gar—”

“’Gee.’”

“Ga—”

“No, you dipshit,” she snapped, coming forward and grabbing his jaw with her free hand. Leaning in close to him, she lifted her face so he could see the positioning of her tongue as she reiterated the pronunciation. “G.”

He peered down at her, an indecipherable expression surfacing. For a fraction of a second, she thought she saw a glimmer of clarity there. Then he bent forward in the slightest, holding her gaze as he brought his lips a hairsbreadth from hers. In a deeper baritone, the answering repetition hummed between them.

“G.”

Persephone lifted her eyebrows in mild surprise, but pushed him back, a sly smile tugging at the corners of her mouth. “Now we’re getting somewhere.”

The door to the room opened again at that time, and she glanced over to find Charon ambling in, smelling of smoke.

“The remains of the prisoner have been burned outside,” he announced, monotone and aloof.

She nodded, turning back to Gary 1, who had begun snarling at Charon. “Good. He should have just given up whatever last tidbit he’d been hiding. Anyway, go wait for me in the infirmary. Your presence is riling this guy up.”

However, even as Gary 1’s aggression toward him escalated, Charon remained in place.

Persephone exhaled in vexation and lowered the flashcard. “I said wait for me over there. I need this thing to learn to talk as soon as possible, and I’m apparently the only one who can make any headway with him. So get out.”

“No. I have to be here.”

She shot him a fierce glower, having reached the end of her tolerance for his defiant behavior. “ _What_ was that?”

“I don’t like the way he looks at you.”

The frank statement gave her pause, and she pressed her lips together as she watched him. Even knowing the context of his declaration, she thought of the number of infractions he’d committed directly against her authority in recent weeks. A simmering began in her veins, and she shifted to fully face him, using one palm to shove Gary 1 flat against the wall in flippant dismissal. Walking toward Charon, she crooked her finger.

“Come with me. I want a word with you.”

x-x-x-x-x

As it turned out, the confrontation consisted not so much of words, but of action.

Persephone gripped the base of his shaft, where the circular metal clasp constricted the girth. She slid herself up and down over him as he lay grunting on the mattress, his hands fisted into the fabric of her bedsheets and eyes squinted shut in concentration. She smirked and loosened her grip on him when she ensured he could hold his release. Grasping the headboard, she slowed the pace and took most of him within her, rising and plunging so tantalizingly that he muttered an unremitting series of oaths. Her inner thighs rubbed against the leathery skin of his hips as she moved, the contact slick from sweat and blood. The vulgar sounds of their joining resonated through her quarters, and the overpowering scent of sex permeated the air.

She came as she sank all the way down, moaning her climax, filled with his length as she clamped and gushed around him. Multiple waves came and went, rocking through her lower abdomen, reminding her why she loved this. When they receded, she cut the afterglow short and pushed herself off with a wet pop, her fluids dribbling over the veins of his glistening penis. Still rock-hard from the blood flow trapped by the clasp, he growled at the loss of her warmth.

“Let that be a lesson,” she drawled, already swiping her underwear from the floor and stepping into it. “If you defy me again, you will have to wear that each time.”

He grumbled something incoherent and pried the clasp from his swollen cock. “Noted.”

Once she donned her undershirt, she reached for the sheets and threw them over his body, unwilling to look at it in the light when not riding it. “Now put your clothes on and start the nightly patrols. I have an early morning ahead of me.”

Charon obeyed the order, his stiff and unhurried movements signifying his quiet resentment. She swung her irate gaze away from him, accepting his antipathy so long as he submitted to her will. Another bitter thought came forward as she lit a cigarette and leaned against her wardrobe to watch him finish dressing.

“And if you still have problems with how I conduct business, maybe you should chase down my last clone yourself and see if she turned out any better,” Persephone remarked, blowing out a cloud of smoke. “In fact, if you’re so against serving me, why are you even still here? I destroyed your contract four years ago and gave you the chance to walk away. You were free.”

Charon froze in the middle of buttoning his pants, the exposed muscles of his back tensing. They both knew how odd it sounded, the truth of the freedom he had willingly declined. Considering the toxic relationship between them, anyone looking in would have called him out on his madness. As much as he acted otherwise, he had chosen to stay.

“It is my responsibility to be here,” he answered, still faced away from her. “It’s my fault you turned out this way.”

_Ah, yes. The ‘change.’ So it’s obligation keeping you with me, then. Or maybe…_

Persephone puffed on the cigarette, a vindictive grin spreading on her lips. “Hope all you want, Charon. That girl you fell in love with is not coming back.”

She recalled the way he had gawked at Persephone 27, an imperfect but startling reflection of a past long gone.

He only shook his head. “We don't know that. Just like I didn’t know it would work when I pushed the Brotherhood to revive you. Yet here you are.” Rotating, he met her eyes. “What I don't understand is why you came back like… this.”

Somewhere deep in the recesses of her mind, she could comprehend his tormented position. The wide-eyed girl from Vault 101, messiah of the Wastes, sacrificial hero of Project Purity… defying death only to return as the darkest of forces. And there, at her side, stood the man who had loved her, forever waiting for the day her previous persona would return. A futile endeavor.

Persephone stubbed out the cigarette on the aged wood of her wardrobe. “Maybe it’s time I explain something to you.”

Charon listened, still half-dressed, the deeper heaving of his chest indicating the acceleration in his heartrate.

She shifted her weight to one foot, a casual hand on her hip. “You remember how I was. Naïve, optimistic. I saw the world for what it was, but I took the paragon approach to changing it. Spread good deeds, widen my influence, work my way to the top. Oh, how Jericho hated me. Clover ridiculed me. The plan was to gain power, but use it to bring peace. I had big dreams— ”

“I haven’t forgotten,” Charon interjected, the outer layer of his animosity peeling away to reveal the feelings he still held for her underneath. “You were… everything.”

She drew herself up then, currents of red light flashing across her body. “ _I wasn’t enough_. None of it mattered. All my efforts, my positivity, my _sacrifice_ —all for nothing.”

“What do you mean?”

Persephone cackled, a hateful, self-deprecating sound. “When my heart stopped beating, I saw the truth on the other side. Everything I’d done was meaningless. I had wasted my life.”

He swept out an arm in an incredulous gesture. “That's not true. You were a hero.”

“I was an oblivious pawn on a predestined timeline. Nothing I did was supposed to incur lasting change. This world turns on its axis because something unseen spins it, and we’re all pieces in a game completely out of our control,” she declared, barking out a hysterical laugh. “But I won’t stand for it. No. This plane should belong to the ones residing on it—us. And it will take someone in power to break the hold. Do you see? A clone or a double is a threat to my position. Only I hold the key. Only _I_ can deliver us.”

Charon stared at her in a combination of disbelief and alarm. 

“You think you’re responsible for the state of my resurrection. In reality, I had a choice when the option for revival came,” Persephone told him, smiling a grim, wicked smile. “Either I stayed where I was, or return for a second shot. People live only once; I could live twice. If I came back, I could lead the world from its fate, no matter the cost. So you know what I did? I sold my soul for the chance.”


	3. Chapter 3

** Bane of the Wastes **

The weeks passed in slow succession, each day a challenge and a test of her perseverance. She supervised her scientists’ research-based physiological examinations on Gary 1, but saw to his linguistic instruction herself. The process proved taxing and almost fruitless, as he seemed incapable of retaining enough of his daily lessons to make any comprehensive progress. While her utilization of reinforcement techniques did well to maintain his focus during each actual session, nearly everything he had learned was erased by the following morning. The phenomenon infuriated her to no end, but she persisted with the task. Until one of her scouts found a new lead on her clone’s whereabouts, she would physically drill coherent communication skills into him if need be.

Charon remained an ever-stony presence in the background, although his compliance with her orders had improved. He stood now in one corner of the infirmary, on silent watch as she loomed over the makeshift research area in front of the observation room windows. The scientists’ slave collars blinked against the fluorescent lighting as they typed away at their terminals and updated her on their findings. She bent closer when one pulled up a scanned image of Gary 1’s brain.

“We finished studying his frontal and temporal lobes, mistress,” the female ghoul stated, pointing to the solid-filled sections on the monitor. “There’s no sign of any aphasia or damage to either the Broca’s or Wernicke’s areas. It’s bewildering.”

Persephone scowled. “I don’t know what the fuck you’re telling me.”

“Oh, sorry. To put it simply, his language center seems to be intact. He shouldn’t be having any sort of difficulty with speech, but we’re still running tests to see if the problem might be a peripheral one.”

“Fucking hell. Are you serious?” Persephone snapped, straightening and glaring through the glass at Gary 1’s kneeling form. “I want an explanation for his recurring language amnesia. I’m sick of wasting my time teaching him his ABCs over and over again. Hurry up and figure out what kind of defective shit Vault-Tec gave him for a brain.”

The scientists continued with their work as she marched up to the windows and studied Gary 1’s demeanor. Despite his inactivity at present, he had never shown any signs of fatigue or sleep deprivation. If anything, he appeared bored, his blank stare centered on several torn pieces of his jumpsuit littering the floor. She had switched his restraints to two sets of chains around his wrists and forearms, allowing him enough slack to stand or sit as he wished. His physique had remained brawny and toned even through weeks without food, which indicated his body needed no nutritional fuel to function. It really was a shame—and an inconvenience—that his superior biological composition was set back by a deranged and faulty mind.

Suddenly, he lifted his head and held her gaze, as if he had sensed her watching him from across the floor. Persephone’s brow furrowed at the lucidity in his eyes whenever he looked at her, his attentiveness almost hinting at a measure of rationality beneath the psychosis. Something deep and heavy lurked there, but damned if she couldn’t begin to guess its nature. He stayed motionless for several minutes, unblinking as he regarded her. Then, in the subtlest of movements, a smirk passed over his lips before vanishing in the blink of an eye.

Persephone gritted her teeth at the fleeting sight. _What the fuck was that?_

Ire and frustration melded together within her, a long-festering buildup that pushed her near the edge. The simple task of extracting information from him had become a complicated series of hindrances, and now she suspected there was more to his comprehension than she had initially believed. A seething pressure formed in her core, sending currents of energy through her augmented limbs. While she went around in circles trying to “fix” Gary 1, her double still roamed free out there. If she knew anything about herself, it was that she was ambitious, and any fully developed clone of hers likely shared the same trait. She was aware of the time limit, the relentless ticking clock.

And Gary 1 had the gall to look at her like that?

Her expression darkened as she stepped away from the window and ambled toward the tool table near the door. Taking one of Clover’s leather whips, she tested it by cracking it against the back of a chair, sending the wood flying in a volley of splinters. Several gasps from the scientists issued from behind her, but she ignored them as she made her way to the observation room entrance. Yanking it open, she sauntered inside, dragging the whip on the ground after her. The reinforcement method had obviously failed in the instruction and conditioning process thus far; perhaps it was time to introduce punishment into the curriculum.

 _Here’s something you_ won’t _forget, you impudent bastard._

Still on his knees with his arms suspended outward from his sides, Gary 1 peered up at her as she approached. He gave a light tug on the chains wrapped around his forearms, but made no other move to stand when he saw the whip in her hands. The top half of his jumpsuit had all but disintegrated during his weeks in captivity, with only scraps clinging to his torso. She came to a halt in front of him, her mouth set in a straight line.

He tilted his head, appearing cautious as he glanced from her visage to the weapon. “Gary?”

Persephone glared at him and took a few steps to the side, flicking out the length of the whip. “Let me tell you how this is going to work. You act like you haven’t learned shit from your regular lessons, so we’re going to have a little quiz. Do you understand me?”

He stared at her in confusion. “Gary?”

“If you get any questions wrong—well, you’ll see what happens,” she declared while raising her arm. “What is one thing ‘A’ stands for?”

“Gary.”

She sneered.

_CRACK._

The whip struck him sideways across his exposed back, ripping a yell of pain from his throat.

“’A’ is for _asshole_ because that’s what you are, you irritating fuck,” Persephone hissed, poised for the next attack as she watched the laceration glow red in the dimness. “Now tell me one thing ‘B’ stands for.”

He winced, but continued peering at her. “Gary?”

“No. ‘B’ is for _brain_ —” _CRACK,_ “—which you’re sorely lacking.” She inhaled and examined the crisscrossed lashes over his back, leering at the sight of the oozing blood. “So how about ‘C’?”

He had dropped his head forward so that she could no longer see his face, his frame going a bit limp, held up only by the chains. “Ga—”

_CRACK._

“Try ‘C’ for _cage_ , which is what I’m going to stuff you into if you don’t start showing me any progress,” Persephone growled at him, snapping the whip against the floor for emphasis. “You had one job, and that was to tell me if you knew where that bitch Persephone 28—or Proserpina or whatever its name is—went. Instead, this is where we find ourselves. There are twenty-three letters to go, and you’d better be speaking basic English by the end. Now ‘D’…”

Two more lashes joined the others on his back when he stopped answering altogether.

“And I’ll give you ’E’ because I don’t know how I can make this any _easier_ for you,” she fumed. “Christ, you’re pathetic.”

Gary 1 had gone quiet, head still bowed toward the floor. She paused to admire the deep lacerations splitting his skin, having used her full strength with every strike of the whip. Blood seeped into the remnants of his jumpsuit as he breathed heavily through the ordeal. Whether or not this actually worked to bring about the intended outcome, she at least took great pleasure in serving up the treatment.

“I already know what you’re going to say for ‘G,’ so don’t bother with that one.” She rotated her shoulder and readied the whip again. “’H’ is for—”

Persephone stopped when she thought she heard him groan. The sound took her aback, as its intonation seemed less of pain and more of…

She drew in a sharp breath when she shifted to look at him from the center. In the crotch of his jumpsuit, his fully erect penis strained against the fabric, so clearly outlined that she could make out its exact shape. Every muscle from his abdominals to his quads appeared taut as he sank lower on his knees. He started panting at the same time his hips began slight circular motions, and it took her another few seconds to realize he was attempting to stimulate himself through his pants. 

At that moment, he raised his face, lips spread in a mocking grin that accompanied the hunger in his eyes. “ _Harder_.”

Persephone struggled to keep her countenance neutral, at a loss for words. She lowered the whip and retreated a few paces to put some distance between them, perturbed by this unexpected development. Her line of sight strayed back to the well-endowed bulge between his legs, and she scowled when he thrust it toward her, the chains clinking as he tried to move in her direction. Low noises rumbled from his throat, his penetrating gaze roving over her body in a way that only fueled her anger.

She sensed the gawking from the other side of the windows, controlling the urge to gut him as she pivoted on her heel and stalked out. 

_Son of a bitch_ does _understand more than he lets on. Even got horny as all hell. The fuck am I supposed to do with that now?_

x-x-x-x-x

Muffled chatter echoed from the closed entrance to the Ninth Circle, providing background ambience for the nearly empty grand hall. Jericho’s boisterous laugh carried over the other voices, his slurred exclamations revealing his current level of intoxication. Although the noise reached a volume loud enough to cut into her reading, she allowed the racket to continue, feeling generous for his last night in Underworld before he headed back with the Talon Company mercs to Fort Bannister.

Persephone sat slouched in her throne with her jaw propped up in her palm, scanning the handwritten reports on her lap. She tapped a finger against her temple as she read the additional notes on Gary 1, her mind wandering to his errant reaction from earlier that day. Neither reinforcement nor punishment had worked to help him retain much verbal knowledge—or so she had thought.

One had to wonder how far his intelligence actually stretched, how much he kept hidden from them all. The data on him and the other Gary clones suggested that their creation mirrored that of her own clones on an inverted scale. That is, the later Gary clones demonstrated less intellectual ability while the earlier ones were closer to the original in every imitative aspect. It seemed a questionable notion, but if true, Gary 1 had been playing her for a fool.

She scratched at the hair growing back on the shaved portion of her scalp, the mounting stress affecting her usual composure. If all else failed in pointing her to the direction of her final clone, she could order a massive search effort similar in magnitude to her Enclave purge. However, although she possessed the resources to attempt such a feat, she kept its option as a last resort for reasons she would never divulge.

Just then, a loud knocking at the main entrance interrupted her musings.

“I’m not receiving people at the moment,” she yelled out.

“Mistress, I’m a messenger from the Pitt,” a timid voice called back. “I’ve brought a holodisk for you from Wernher. He said it was important.”

Persephone blew out a long, jaded breath and glanced at Charon, who towered next to her on standby. “Go get it and bring it to me.”

He marched forward at once, reaching the doors and pulling them open to snatch the holodisk out of the messenger’s hands. Slamming them shut again, he came back and held the device out to her. She set her papers aside and took it, her jaw tightening as she loaded it into her Pip-Boy and hit the playback.

_“Persephone, it’s me. Before you go on a rampage about me sending you a message out of the blue, no, nothing bad has happened to the Pitt. We’ve made even more progress with the trogs we caught for the cure experiments. Would’ve been great if you’d hadn’t taken all the scientist slaves with you, though. We’ve got nothing groundbreaking yet, but everything’s running smoothly. What else do you expect when you leave me in charge?”_

She stared at her Pip-Boy in annoyance, already tired of listening to Wernher’s gruff tone.

_“But anyway, I do have something to tell you. It’s about Orion.”_

Persephone tensed at the name, eyes locked on the audio screen of the recording.

_“Look, I know you’ve never really wanted the kid, but hear me out. Whatever doppelganger shit you’re chasing out there in the Capital with your ghoul sex slave, I need you to drop it and come back. Orion’s been infected with some kind of alternate strain of TDC, and nothing in Marie’s DNA is enough to fight it. I’m trying to get more samples from her to run more tests, but Midea’s breathing down my neck about putting all this pressure on a four-year-old girl. It’s like, fuck, man. This is my son’s life at stake. Just… fuck…”_

A long pause occurred as he audibly tried to gather himself.

_“Persephone. He’s two years old. A toddler. It ain’t his fault he was born to shitty people, and he deserves better than spending his days dealing with seizures and joint pain. He’s back to crawling on all fours. He stopped learning how to talk. He can barely call me anymore. And he forgot how to say, ‘Mommy.’”_

She felt Charon watching her from the right, detecting the intensity of his rigid posture. She knew he was searching for a reaction, any indication of an emotional response. Instead, her poker face stayed in place.

_“I’m asking you to come home. Marie’s been real sweet, offering up her blood samples and staying with him during his worst nights. But I don’t know if he’s ever gonna get better. This is way too much shit to deal with by myself. I’m not cut out for being a single parent. And as much as you like to deny it, he’s your son, too.”_

The recording cut off, leaving the hall quiet, frigid, and hollower than before.

Persephone slowly removed the holodisk, peering at it as one would when finding an extra unwelcome ingredient in their mirelurk cakes. Then, taciturn expression unchanging, she dropped it at her feet and crushed it under the sole of her boot. The sound reverberated across the space, callous and final. When she turned to address Charon, her voice rang cold.

“Go to the infirmary and fetch me the next set of reports. I still have a lot of work to do.”

x-x-x-x-x

The hushed atmosphere spanned the entire Museum of History, save for the muffled sounds of the sleeping inhabitants and the buzzing ceiling lights. She descended one of the staircases leading to the first floor, her unsteady footfalls sending grating echoes over the lobby. A half-empty Psycho syringe swung from one of her fingers, and she barely felt the dozens of bleeding pinpricks in her arms as she moved. Her advanced bodily processes worked in overdrive to metabolize the sheer amount of chems she had introduced into her system within the past few hours. She savored the high while she could, casting her distorted vision to the timeworn Chop Shop sign once she reached the bottom of the stairs.

A vague inclination beckoned, and she ambled forward to heed the call.

The green hue of the terminals flickered on to illuminate the dark interior of the infirmary when she stepped inside and shut the door behind her. A drop in the temperature cooled the chem-induced flush over her skin, but the haziness lingered as she tossed away the syringe and trudged on graceless legs toward the entrance to the left. Through the pitch black windows, she felt Gary 1’s eyes on her, and the clinking noise of chains confirmed he was awake. She estimated Charon’s current location on his solitary patrol route outside, hesitating for only a second before flicking on the lights in the observation room.

She ignored Gary 1’s bewildered intonation and grabbed the same whip she had used on him that morning. Stumbling a little, she managed to pry open the door by ripping it from its hinges and then laying it on the ground nearby. Coherent thought ranked low on her list of priorities at the moment, for the instinctive rage had consumed her.

And nothing even came close to numbing it.

Her boots plodded over the dusty floor as she approached the captive clone, his curiosity evident in his unblinking stare. She set her unfocused eyes on him, the whip dragging behind her, but even she knew her unstable gait lacked her typical intimidating aura. Gary 1, for all his deficient—or hidden—intelligence, seemed to note her impaired coordination. A peculiar gleam entered his gaze.

Persephone stood over him, a rush of hatred climbing to the surface. “Well, here we are again,” she declared with a slight slur. “You must be tired of me by now, right? Had it with being treated like a fucking retarded subhuman when you’re actually not as mentally disabled as you seem to be?”

He only peered up at her from the same kneeling position she’d left him in earlier. “Gary.”

“Don’t give me that,” she told him in a soft growl. “I’ve had a very, _very_ trying day, and since you haven’t been good for anything else, you’re going to help me blow off some steam.”

He hardly even flinched when she cracked the whip against his side, which only infuriated her more as she staggered a bit from the movement.

“It’s your goddamn fault—”

_CRACK._

“—Because you refuse to learn how to fucking talk—”

_CRACK._

“—So my stay in the Capital is taking that much longer—”

_CRACK._

“—And now my son…”

She faltered as soon as the words left her mouth, the image of tousled brown hair and bright green eyes flashing across her mind. A dull ache started somewhere deep inside, and she flung the whip to the opposite wall, breathing hard as it hit the surface and flopped to the floor. Her nails raked down the sides of her face, tearing the skin, tearing the mental picture away. An organic heart thundered in her chest, reminding her of a maddening verity, a fact that had never altered: no matter the degree of body modifications, she still proved human at the core.

Persephone pressed her lips together and glowered at Gary 1, who watched her, transfixed, as she came close to falling apart in front of him. She grew aware of her actions and collected herself, removing her fingers from the scratches over her cheeks. A new idea took form then, and she went to adjust his chains to full slack. While the length would allow him to reach the far corners of the observation room, they still restricted him from stepping within ten feet of the door. He peered at her as she granted him the rare freedom, and he rose to his feet in tentative movements once she stepped back.

“Oh, believe me… there is a purpose to this,” she jeered, curling her right hand into a fist. “Artificial strength against artificial strength. Let’s go.”

Without waiting for him to process that, she threw a heavy punch that smashed into his left cheekbone.

Gary 1’s head snapped to the side, and something cracked audibly in his face. He stayed in that position for several dumbfounded seconds, a dark bruise already forming on his skin as she shifted into a fighting stance. Adrenaline pumped through her veins at the thrill of the brawl. Preparing for a second wallop, she rolled her shoulders and cracked her knuckles. Her left fist shot forward in a jab, but quick as lightning, he parried it and caught the blow using one hand.

Persephone grunted in astonishment at his solid grip, and even with the chains weighing down his arms, he held onto her as she tried to wrench away. An attempt at a second jab with her right hand met the same fate, and when she went dirty and tried to kick him in the groin, he blocked her with a smooth swing of his leg. Finally, he faced her and met her eyes. The sight stunned her into immobility.

He didn’t just appear mad.

He looked absolutely _livid_.

She let out a noise of surprise when he shoved her backwards, the momentum throwing her off balance. He advanced on her right away, giving her a second shove that bumped her into the windows of the infirmary. She moved to counter as her outrage flared, but he came forward and used his body to pin her against the glass. She snarled at him, calculating how much his strength outmatched hers due to her compromised state. He scowled back, marking this as his first instance of open hostility toward her.

“Gary,” he growled in a warning tone.

Persephone cursed and strained against him. “Let me go right now.”

“Gary.”

“ _Now_.”

“ _Gary_.”

“Are you talking back to me, you piece of—”

The rest of her words faded into the nether when he captured her lips and kissed her deeply.

Persephone froze, still trapped against the window as Gary 1 revealed startling intimate proficiency by working his mouth over hers. Against her will, her traitorous body opened up for him, and she lost all semblance of logic when his tongue darted past her teeth to taste her. Before she could register this turn of events any further, he licked her labret piercing and then shifted to leave a trail of searing kisses down her neck. An involuntary shudder rocked through her at the sensation, as she couldn’t remember the last time she had allowed a man this sort of privilege. And now here was a replicated being of all things, taking what he wanted, from her consent to her control.

The surge of furious heat returned, and she tried to buck him off, but his vicelike grip held up, and his size dwarfed hers. A sound suspiciously close to a moan left her throat when he bit down on her flesh at the base of her neck, sucking there hard enough to leave a mark. At the same time, he moved her wrists so that he needed only one hand to hold both, and with his other, he reached down between them to unbutton her leather pants.

Her eyes widened when she felt his hard-on press against her stomach. Surely this creature didn’t expect—

But he groaned against her neck when he rubbed himself on her, and her breath caught in her throat once his fingers managed to tear the front of her pants to shreds. Left in her underwear, she stiffened when he used his knee to push her legs apart. Neither fear nor alarm comprised her reaction; rather, it was indignation—and burgeoning curiosity over how far he would take this. She inhaled sharply when he yanked her underwear down and unzipped the crotch of his jumpsuit. His throbbing penis slapped against her belly, hot and rigid.

Persephone caught his eye, her own reflexive arousal stirring as he lifted one of her legs and positioned himself. “You should rethink what you’re doing, Gary 1.”

His expression darkened, and he leaned closer before releasing her wrists and tapping a finger against his chest. “Gary,” he rumbled in what sounded like a correction. And then, as if addressing her, he growled, “… _Persephone_.”

She hissed out an oath that conveyed initial pain mixed with pleasure as he thrust into her. He groaned as he did, bracing himself against the window by placing his palms on the glass on either side of her. Although she’d had bigger men, he filled her in ways she couldn’t identify, and when he started moving his hips, the flames of desire spread through her in an all-encompassing blaze. Soon, it all boiled over as her mania awoke, and she gave in to his lust with reckless abandon.

Her leg wrapped around his waist, bidding him closer, urging him harder. She momentarily set aside all reservations of his questionable coherence, for all that mattered right now was his understanding of her need to have him deep inside her. He picked up on her signals with astounding ease, and she held onto his shoulders for leverage as he performed to her nonverbal demands. At first, he did so with perfect rhythm, plunging in and out of her at a pace that took her higher in her frenzied haze.

However, seconds later, he paused and then upped the intensity.

Persephone uttered a sound of protest when he began pounding into her in earnest, his ragged breathing filling the entire room as his cock bottomed out and hit her cervix over and over. She dug her nails into his shoulders to communicate her displeasure, but he ignored her and continued thrusting almost painfully, his wanton vocalizations becoming more prominent. When she glimpsed his face, she realized his attention had fixed on something behind her, through the glass into the infirmary. And when the lights from the other side hit his features just right, she realized he was _sneering_.

Abruptly, Gary stopped and pulled out, grabbing her by the waist and spinning her around before she could resist. He shoved her against the window again, this time pinning her front against the glass, and resumed fucking her from behind. Persephone used her arms to cushion herself, but as she prepared to turn and demand what the hell he was doing, she tensed at the sight in the illuminated infirmary.

Charon stood there, a short distance from the window, his expression the most murderous she’d ever seen it.

Lost in her manic state, she couldn’t help the laughter that burst from her mouth.

And then, as if to pour salt upon the open wound, Gary clutched her hips and buried himself to the hilt, letting out a long groan as he shot spurts of hot cum inside her.


	4. Chapter 4

** Deliverer of the Earth **

_Teeming… twisting, twitching, trilling, thrilling…_

_Spinning. Around and around. The world distorted, warped, skewed this way and that. The sun cut through the night, a blinding radiance cast in the darkness. Opposing the sky, the trembling ground split and shifted. Everything in motion, always changing; impossibility rampant, plausibility forsaken. Gusts of folly blustered through the winding scape. Chaos reigned, rocked through the Earth, cataclysmic on the surface, self-destructive at the core._

_And there, at the center of it all, sat the one in the jagged steel throne._

_She rose and slammed her palms together in a resounding thunderclap. In an instant, everything ceased and righted itself, obeying her will. Order resumed, and the mortal plane stilled to a quiet twilight. The calm settled over the horizon, saturated in amber and lavender hues. No more pandemonium, no more shackles to a doomed road. At the base of her motives and actions lurked her true vision for the future. A realm released from a condemned fate._

_A world set free._

_Humanity had already destroyed itself once. She would ensure they didn’t a second time. They had but to follow, and she would lead them to the stars._

_No matter the journey._

_No matter the price._

_“A commendable venture. An optimistic goal,” a voice hissed behind, around, above, and inside her. “But be aware, it’s a foolish endeavor.”_

_Persephone shut her eyes and maintained her composed exterior. “I’ve seen the truth. And I’m going to obliterate it. Humans will thrive and endure. Even if I have to force them into it.”_

_“Your atrocities carve a well-intentioned but twisted path across the Wastes. How do you expect to save those trying to save themselves from_ you _?”_

_“Everything I do is for their own good in the long run. Some will die by my hand, but I’m just culling the masses. Only the most resilient will survive. I don’t need them to love me. I’m not here as their savior. I’ll do what I have to as their deliverer.”_

_“You’ve admittedly made progress during your reign. But now another may have risen. If your concerns come true, and you find yourself facing a mirrored rival, who do you think the world will follow? You, a monster? Or the replica, your inversion?”_

_She hesitated in answering, the familiar torrent of anxiety and rage rushing through her. Then, like a breeze tapping her shoulder, she felt the inclination to turn around. Between her and her throne stood a spectral render of Proserpina, the missing Persephone 28—the dreaded double. Although the translucent depiction was a mere echo of the real quarry, it incited hostile intent within Persephone when she saw it had taken on her previous appearance from before her death._

_“You will never unite your world under one banner. No matter which side you pick—light or dark, good or bad—there will always be a contender to oppose you. Such is the way of human nature. When you were a hero, you changed nothing. Now that you are a villain, you will go around in circles endlessly. Try as hard as you like, but the timer had never ceased. Your demise is imminent. Your Earth’s days are numbered.”_

_“I won’t accept that.”_

_The specter of her double waned and faded, along with the vanishing gleam of the throne._

_“Then don’t accept it. Just know one fact: you forfeited your soul for nothing.”_

Persephone shot up in bed, her augmented systems going haywire as she sucked in a breath, sweat seeping from her pores. The dream dissipated into the blackness of her quarters, but its effects lingered in the erratic rhythm of her pulse. She swiped a shaking palm over her brow and listened to her own raspy breathing against the silence.

_Last time I’m ever overdosing on chems. Fuck._

She curled her fingers into the covers, weathering through the detoxification, trying to shake the dream’s contents from her mind. Although the mania had passed, her thoughts sped in double time. The image of the spectral Proserpina persisted, stark and clear in her working memory. While that alone had her foaming at the mouth, another detail of the spoken exchange gnawed at her.

Persephone’s functions winded down at once as her lips moved. “I exchanged it for power. Liberation from the restraints of moral weakness,” she said to herself in a venomous whisper. “I gave it up for a purpose.”

Her eyes narrowed straight into the dark, almost catching a glimpse of the invisible entity.

“It was _not_ for nothing.”

x-x-x-x-x

From her quarters, Persephone’s ears picked up the familiar cadence of a specific set of footsteps in the distance. She returned her attention to her personal terminal, intent on finishing the data entry task before noon. With Jericho and Talon Company already gone, and Clover and her slavers heading back to Paradise Falls that day, more menial duties fell to Persephone. Leaning forward in her chair, she typed up a few more notes as the stomping noise drew closer. A glance at her Pip-Boy clock told her Charon’s rampage around the Mall had lasted close to seven hours. She almost wished he were still under contract, if only as a measure to contain his fury whenever he lost his temper.

When he barged in through the doors and shut them again behind him, she sent an incensed look in his direction.

“Are you finished?” Persephone demanded, keeping her voice controlled.

Charon matched her ire with his own, his entire body taut and covered in dust. He appeared in better emotional shape than he did earlier that morning, when the sight in the observation room had caused him to snap. Her manic laughter had followed him when he turned on his heel and charged out, and she last remembered shoving Gary away from her before ending up in her own bed. As far as bad nights went, hers fared better than Charon’s, but her resulting mood proved just as volatile.

He stalked toward her desk, where she rose from her chair and folded her arms across her chest. Everything in her tense demeanor dared him to act out against her. Angry as he was, she operated on an even shorter fuse.

“Yes. I’m finished,” he told her in clipped tones as he halted a few feet away, resuming his post.

She observed the rigidity of his posture and sensed the boiling beneath his leathery skin. “Is that so? Do you have anything else to say?”

“Yes.”

“What is it?”

“I want permission to kill him.”

Persephone glowered at him, catching the whiff of blood on his person. “No.”

“Then I will kill him without permission.”

“Charon,” she snarled in warning. “Don’t test me. He’s an essential resource.”

He broke his taciturn bearing to glare at her. “For what? Fucking? That is _my_ role.”

She scoffed, her gaze piercing into the green envy flashing across his glassy eyes. “And you think that makes you exclusive? I will do what I want, _who_ I want, where I want, when I want. Especially if any of the above get me what I need. Understood?”

He closed off again and shifted his line of sight away. “Yes.”

“Good. Let’s move on, then.”

However, just as she prepared to return to her seat, he seemed to wrestle with some inner compulsion before facing her.

“Your manic episodes are becoming a detriment.”

Persephone gouged her nails into the worn surface of the desk. “And your insolence is becoming a pain in the ass. You’re the one who chose to stay and follow my cause. If you’re devoted to me, then act like it.”

“I stood by when you had another man’s son. My devotion isn’t a question.”

“No, but your jealousy is.” She cocked her head to the side and then stepped toward him, peering up at the conflict in his features. “What claim do you think you have on me, Charon? We’re not what we used to be, and you’d do well to remember that. I can’t have you going off and throwing a tantrum every time I decide to fuck someone else.”

He remained silent.

“Besides, Gary _responds_ to sexual acts with me.”

“So it’s ‘Gary’ now?”

She ignored that and went on, “I suspect he can actually talk, but he’s hiding it. Toying with me. If I manipulate the situation, he’ll play right into my hands. So I’m going to implement this new tactic, and if you have an issue with it, then either leave or work out your frustration another way.”

Charon loomed over her, a predatory glint entering in his eye. “Is that an invitation?”

She paused to study his intensity, the way his expression brimmed with the convergence of love and hate. _Now this is interesting…_ “To take it out on me? Depends. What is it you have in mind?”

He reached out and grabbed a fistful of her hair, tugging it back in a bold move. “Let me dominate. Just this once. You will see.”

 _Well. This has gone in an entirely different direction._ She weighed the choices, a smirk playing about her lips. Much work awaited, but this had the potential to solve a few longstanding problems.

After seconds of debate, she gestured to the bed. “By all means, then. Give me your worst.”

He drew closer and moved his hand to grip the nape of her neck. “As you command.”

x-x-x-x-x

Persephone shifted in place, peeved that her accelerated healing hadn’t yet dulled the soreness between her legs. She turned her head toward Charon and sent him a scowl. He hovered in his corner, his face set in a satisfied look.

_Smug bastard._

She waited for the Pitt raiders to finish herding the scientists out of the infirmary, answering their puzzled and curious glances with her customary steely glare. The order to put all research on hold for the day had come as a surprise, she knew. She offered no explanation and barked at the raiders to hurry up with the temporary evacuation. Once the last of them had filed out, she motioned for Charon to close the doors.

The resulting stillness lent the space a foreboding quality. Persephone ventured to the observation room door, exchanged a nod with Charon, and then strode inside. They had settled a number of disputes in the past few hours, and now came the time to commence this phase of the new plan.

Gary perked up when she stepped into view, having been returned to his chained position against the wall. He had witnessed the scientists leaving, and a shrewd, calculating element pulsated in his gaze. She sauntered to him, her hands empty of both learning materials and weapons. He seemed to notice this, as his face grew even more inquisitive when she stopped in front of him.

“Gary?” he asked.

Persephone feigned a pleasant smile. “I just wanted to ask some questions today. No pressure from the others watching. Only me. And him.”

As expected, Gary sneered when he spotted Charon watching from the other side of the window.

“First of all, did you like what we did last night?” Persephone inquired, working to maintain her charming performance when Gary’s attention snapped to her.

“Gary,” he affirmed, his expression growing almost ravenous. “Ga…”

He trailed off when his eyes fixed on her neck, where several hickeys dotted the expanse of her skin. A glower replaced his leering, and he glanced back and forth between her and Charon, seemingly connecting it in his head. The chains holding his wrists clinked as he took a threatening step toward the window, aggression overtaking his frame.

“Relax. It was damage control,” Persephone stated, bringing up her palms to hold his face and turn it to her. “You got me into trouble with my lover.” Then, leaning forward next to his ear, she whispered, “Do you want to do it again?”

“Gary,” he uttered, his breath hitching when one of her hands snaked its way south to cup him.

She almost snorted at how quickly his anatomy responded and hardened, wondering if that came with his nature or if she and her clones really had this instantaneous effect on him. Her fingers rubbed up and down along his length, and he thrust against her, the low sounds in his throat begging, whimpering. She felt Charon’s hard stare on the back of her head, and she continued with her ministrations, determined to prove her point.

Still close enough to brush her mouth along Gary’s earlobe, she murmured in a husky tone, “Moan for me.”

He did, loudly.

“Do you like this?”

He grunted when her thumb circled the tip of his cock through a layer of cloth.

“Tell me.”

A second of hesitation passed. “Yes.”

She breathed in as a fierce, victorious rush invaded her senses. _What did I tell you, Charon? It’s working._

Gary rotated to nip at her neck. She allowed it, frowning at the stinging sensation as he tried to replace Charon’s love bites with his own. The nails of her other hand raked down his back, and he writhed against her, his teeth clamping down into the junction of her shoulder and neck.

Persephone pressed him to the wall as his pre-cum leaked through the material of his jumpsuit. “Is this what you want?”

“More.”

Thrilled that he had abandoned his defenses, she moved to slip her hand into his zipper. At that moment, however, a faint clacking noise from below interrupted them.

They both froze. Perplexed, she analyzed the unguarded panic rising in his face. Her eyes then wandered down to his right boot, which emitted the noise again when he shifted it back. She withdrew and then crouched down, reaching for it.

“G-Gary!” he cried, jerking his right leg around in an attempt to evade her.

She caught his ankle and gripped it hard enough to nearly snap the bone. “Are you concealing something in here?”

Holding his limb still, Persephone rapped her knuckles against the boot, testing each section until she found the source of the clacking embedded in the rubber heel. She peered at it and hooked her nail under a previously unnoticed latch, finding that it opened into a hidden slit. A small holotape slid out and landed on the floor.

Gary tried to stomp on it, but she twisted his ankle and swiped the holotape as he ground out an unintelligible series of growls. She slammed his leg against the wall and jumped to her feet, her hand shooting forward to seize his throat as she held the holotape in front of his nose.

“What the fuck is this?”

He gaped at her in alarm now. “Gary,” he choked out.

Persephone glared at him. “Then I guess I’d better find out for myself.”

Gary blanched, his countenance switching. “Wait—”

Her red eyes flashed as he caught himself and shut his mouth.

Vicious glee spread her lips into a sneer, and she chortled while releasing him. “Well, well, well. Now I’ll really have to see what this thing contains.”

She left him there and returned to the infirmary, smirking at Charon as she passed by and waved the holotape at him.

He inclined his head and followed her out. “Fine. You were right.”

x-x-x-x-x

Persephone loaded the text file holotape into her terminal and waited for it to load. She had sent Charon to put the scientist slaves to work on whatever project would keep them occupied for the day. The solitude of her quarters allowed her to exhibit her anticipation, and she tapped her fingers on her desk while leaning close to the monitor. Finally, a document appeared on the screen. Upon reading the first line, her eagerness transformed to apprehension.

**_Project Proserpina — Progress Logs — Dr. Howard, Lead Scientist._ **

Persephone’s stomach twisted as she scrolled through the text.

_**December 2, 2277  
Adams Air Force Base** _

_Not to start off these official logs with a complaint, but I really wish I hadn’t been reassigned from Dr. Whitley’s lab to head this project. I’m a goddamn engineer and eyebot scientist. This cloning business is out of my field._

_In any case, the first batch of clones is complete. Persephone 1-7. Monstrous mutations. Hostile. Persephone 1 is barely anything more than a giant blob of putrid flesh. It’s ridiculous that we have to keep it. Persephone 7 is the most mobile of them, but it looks like a cross between a centaur and a mirelurk. None look anything like the original._

_Then again, judging by the photo sent to us from Raven Rock, the original isn’t even that pretty._

_-.-.-.-.-_

_**December 3, 2277  
Adams Air Force Base** _

_Dear God. We heard the original actually managed to destroy Raven Rock. The higher-ups here at Adams are still forcing all teams to continue their research. Bastards._

_-.-.-.-.-_

_**December 13, 2277  
Adams Air Force Base** _

_Second batch of clones is complete. Persephone 8-14 at least look more humanoid. Still far from replicas of the original, but at least they grew hair, and Persephone 14’s facial features are more or less in the correct places. The ones with vocal chords can’t say anything except their own name. These clones are as hostile as the first batch, but not toward each other. And we need to figure out which synthetic body chemical is producing that horrendous smell._

_The fourteen clones are being held in quarantine at the south end of the housing district. They can all stink together over there, far from the rest of us who have working noses._

_-.-.-.-.-_

_**December 16, 2277  
Adams Air Force Base** _

_The original killed Colonel Autumn and took back the Jefferson Memorial. A crippling blow to our forces, but she died in the process. Good. She’s gone. And we’re making considerable advancements in our cloning research._

_Her replacement will be ready soon enough._

_-.-.-.-.-_

_**December 28, 2277  
Adams Air Force Base** _

_We just finished the third batch of clones. Persephone 15-21. Better quality, and most no longer emit the stench or try to attack us. They’re starting to resemble the original in various physical features. The body shapes are closer, too, and Persephone 20 and 21 have demonstrated possible inheritance of the barkskin ability. Their language ability seems stunted, but that’s fine._

_We’re finally getting somewhere._

_-.-.-.-.-_

_**December 30, 2277  
Adams Air Force Base** _

_The original is back. Rumors say she was resurrected from the dead. And if that bloody swathe she cut from the Citadel to the northern Capital is any indication, I’m willing to believe some sort of necromancy was at work. Reports indicate she’s a bloodthirsty terror now, and I’d be lying if I said that didn’t scare me. Imagine if she learned about what we’ve been doing here…_

_Fortunately, she headed due north, right out of the Capital Wasteland. This gives the Enclave time to recover. The Brotherhood is still a problem, but with the original and her support gone, I think we may eventually recoup enough to take the purifier again._

_I can only pray she doesn’t come back._

_-.-.-.-.-_

_**January 12, 2278  
Adams Air Force Base** _

_We’ve done it! The fourth turned out to be our last batch. Persephone 22-27 are all very good imitations of the original, and they exhibit less aggressive tendencies. And the last one, Persephone 28…_

She _is Proserpina._

_My team has received orders to take all twenty-eight Persephone clones to Vault 108._

_It’s time to begin the next stage of the project._

_-.-.-.-.-_

_**January 13, 2278  
Presidential Metro** _

_We ran into some problems with transporting the clones._

_For one thing, the fatter ones could barely fit into the train. Couple that with the fact that more than half of them fought us all the way to the metro, and I was ready to put in for my retirement. We managed to subdue the difficult ones with sedatives, and our security detail sawed a gigantic hole into one of the train cars to deal with the size issue. We’re only now en route to the Capital._

_Again, if I were still working with eyebots, I wouldn’t be nursing this migraine at the moment._

_-.-.-.-.-_

_**January 19, 2278  
Vault 108** _

_We’ve set up camp outside Vault 108. The clones have been separated by batch and are secured in shaded pens. We’ll be conducting additional tests on them before we even approach the Vault entrance._

_From this point on, the log updates will be sporadic since we don’t have a consistent power source._

_-.-.-.-.-_

_**February 6, 2278  
Vault 108** _

_Command had warned us about the inhabitants of this Vault, but we still found ourselves ill-prepared. My assistant accompanied the security detail on a scouting job inside and was attacked. He didn’t survive his injuries._

_These Gary clones are lethal. And considering that they’re around two hundred years old, their vitality is frightening. Also, it seems they, too, can only say their own name._

_-.-.-.-.-_

_**February 17, 2278  
Vault 108** _

_Proserpina is showing odd signs of development. I know she can speak, but she chooses not to, and she prefers to stay with her fellow clones even though the team has offered her better quarters. She possesses all the abilities of the original, but there’s something else about her that I can’t put my finger on. Right now, she’s just watching, accepting. I’m not sure how much she’s learning._

_I’ll have to keep an eye on her._

_-.-.-.-.-_

_**March 1, 2278  
Vault 108** _

_We’ve started the acclimation process. I now see the point of the first half of Persephone clones. Our cloning technology is a shadow of the pre-War version, but this part is a test to see if we’re close to emulating it._

_We set Persephone 1-7 loose inside the Vault and slammed the door shut. Well, ‘set loose’ is a figure of speech because we actually had to roll them in since most of them don’t have legs. It’s been eight hours, and we haven’t heard anything from inside._

_-.-.-.-.-_

_**March 3, 2278  
Vault 108** _

_Today, we learned that neither set of clones will attack each other, even with the first batch of Persephone clones presenting a grotesque appearance and malodorous smell. Fascinating. My team still hasn’t discovered the reason for this, but my gut tells me that these inorganic beings are created with a certain inherent signal that mitigates other clones._

_-.-.-.-.-_

_**March 21, 2278  
Vault 108** _

_We renovated our camp into a small fort with actual walls. Power supply is still limited, but comfort has increased. Proserpina even helped a little with the construction. Ever-silent, wide-eyed like a child. But there’s still a strange quality to her that I can’t place._

_She has this innocent look about her, though. I’m finding it harder these days to think of her role in all this._

_-.-.-.-.-_

_**April 4, 2278  
Vault 108** _

_Persephone 8-14 were deployed inside the entrance to the Vault cloning lab. The security detail used up a bulk of our Stealth Boys to sneak inside and check on the progress. No corpses anywhere. As with the first batch, none of the clones are fighting. Rather, both sets seem to ignore the other._

_While it’s good that they’re not killing each other off, I’m a tad bit concerned about what this means for the project._

_-.-.-.-.-_

_**April 23, 2278  
Vault 108** _

_Nothing changed inside the Vault in the past nineteen days, so we sent in Persephone 15-21, the more “intelligent” batch. At this point, I wouldn’t mind if a fight starts. It just feels like we’re littering the interior of the Vault with drooling, shambling bodies._

_Proserpina has been looking a little lonely since this morning. It’s possible she had developed a bond with the others. I’m not sure if this capacity for empathy is a good or bad thing._

_-.-.-.-.-_

_**April 29, 2278  
Vault 108** _

_We just heard that someone launched an orbital strike against Adams Air Force Base. There’s nothing left of it. This is the Enclave’s third heavy loss in almost five months. And there’s no word on the responsible party._

_Could it possibly be the original?_

_-.-.-.-.-_

_**May 10, 2278  
Vault 108** _

_Our faction’s reduction to remnants and lack of leadership has resulted in my team being left largely to ourselves. We’re on our own. Now I_ have _to see this project through. It’s our last hope for rebuilding._

_We deployed Persephone 22-27, the most humanlike and docile batch. Proserpina cried at the separation, as she’s the last one left in our camp. The show of genuine emotion took all of us aback._

_I’ve been debating capturing a Gary clone to bring back here for tests. They still haven’t responded to the Persephone clones, and I’m curious to learn what makes them tick. However, I’m also worried that an abduction of one may throw the others into a violent frenzy, like a hive mind. I’ll think on it some more._

_The success of this project depends on how the Gary clones react to Proserpina._

_-.-.-.-.-_

_**May 15, 2278  
Vault 108** _

_Remarkable! A Gary clone approached us of his own accord. I can barely type this; I’m still shaking from excitement. We actually ended up negotiating with him._

_Proserpina has been taken inside the Vault._

_She’s the perfect clone. An exact duplicate of the original. She carries the strain, the mutation that allows the original to develop and sustain superhuman abilities. It’s no wonder the scientists at Raven Rock had taken samples of her genetic material. As the carrier, she doesn’t display any outward characteristics. However, if the mutation were to pass to an organic human child, that child may not survive it._

_But this… this is something else entirely._

_And now we wait._

_-.-.-.-.-_

_**June 11, 2278  
Vault 108** _

_Mayday… the original has returned. I repeat, the original has returned. And she has initiated a mass Enclave purge across the Capital Wasteland._

_We’ve abandoned Project Proserpina. Destroyed our camp, equipment, and all other evidence. This is a prewritten message, as I will be long gone by the time her forces reach this section of the Capital. I’m handing all the log records to a capable individual for safekeeping in case any surviving Enclave member seeks to restart the project in the future._

_We’re now running for our lives._

_May God help us._

_**End Project Proserpina Logs.** _

Persephone sat paralyzed, her eyes almost bulging out of her head as she finished reading the last entry. The insight to the project left her dazed, outraged. Her mind addressed and processed several details of interest, namely the negotiations with a Gary clone and Proserpina’s social behavior. But most of all…

“What fucking mutation? What strain?” she hissed to herself. “And what was that about passing it to a human child—”

_Oh. Shit._

Her fingers curled around the armrests of her chair and bent the metal, her mouth falling ajar as she recalled Wernher’s message about Orion.

_I see. So that’s what happened. Fucking hell._

She blew out a long breath and slumped in her seat, exhausted. However, when she mustered the energy to close the document, a collapsed tab at the bottom of the screen caught her eye. And when she clicked on it, another surge of trepidation shot through her spine, sending her barreling forward into the desk as her vision seared across the monitor.

_**June 2281  
Vault 108** _

_Proserpina… Persephone 28…_

_It’s done. The project is done. But she’s gone. She’s left me. Too willful. Too independent._

_Too advanced._

_I can’t go after her. This is my home. The others need my guidance._

_I want her. I miss her. But no one can know._

_Persephone 27, then. Flawed, and a little broken, but still her in a sense._

_And if I destroy her legs, she will never be able to run away from me._

Out of everything documented in the holotape, those last words proved to be the most chilling of all.

x-x-x-x-x

She stormed into the observation room, flinging the holotape at the man still chained to the wall.

“Explain this, you piece of shit,” she snarled as the neon currents of her cybernetics flared under her skin.

Gary fixed her with a dark look of amusement. “Gary?” he asked innocently.

“Don’t even give me that.” She marched up to him and swung a solid right hook into his jaw. “I read everything. That was you who wrote that last entry, wasn’t it?”

He grunted from the impact of her strike and cracked his neck before leering down at her. “Gary.”

“I know you can understand everything I’m saying to you, and I know you can fucking talk,” Persephone growled. As her red irises glowed, she curled the fingers of her right hand into claws, lengthening her razor-sharp nails at will and plunging them into his chest.

His face twisted as he yelled out, and he clenched his teeth when she dug into the flesh between his ribs, close to his heart.

“ _Drop the act and tell me what I want to know or I will rip you apart_ ,” she thundered, wrenching her grip. “Where is Proserpina?”

Gary’s entire demeanor changed in an instant. Masking his physical pain, he straightened and lifted his chin, his countenance reflecting sound intelligence and focus.

“Gone. Ran away months ago,” he told her, his actual voice deep, his words articulate.

Persephone retracted her nails, floundering for a response now that he had revealed his true self. “Why?”

Gary leaned close to her, his dark eyes laughing, taunting. “Because she feared me."


	5. Chapter 5

** Crown of the Pitt **

She lit another cigarette, the fourth in a row, and flicked the match to the side as she took a long drag. The smoke billowed from her lips, joining the congested air inside the grand hall. Her collected bearing presented an illusion of enduring control, a front for the furious whirring of gears in her mind. The seat beneath her offered little comfort this time, and no matter how long she loitered there deliberating, no simple answer arrived to tip the situation in her favor.

Two dozen pairs of eyes watched her from around the hall. Her raiders, wary and curious, awaited her next order in the strained silence. She took her time with her stick of vice, bringing it back to her lips as she fixed her menacing gaze on the man standing in the center.

The chains ran from his wrists to the walls on either side, slackened and shining in the lights around the perimeter. He still wore the tatters of his jumpsuit, the top half all but shredded away to reveal the musculature of his torso. A pattern of new gashes glowed red across his skin, inflicted earlier when he had reverted to saying nothing but repetitions of his name. The sneer on his face tested her thinning self-restraint, but he knew as well as she did that killing him meant his information would slip from her grasp. Torture no longer derived satisfactory results, and other forms of coercion always led back to a bargain she refused to accept.

Left with no other choice, she had to acknowledge their stalemate. However, defeat never crossed her mind as an option. She would trap him back in the palm of her hand.

The game of wits had begun.

"Speak," Persephone ordered, the sudden command startling some of the Pitt raiders.

The derision in his eyes remained constant. "Gary."

She stood and sauntered over to him, the cigarette hanging from her mouth. He held still as she approached, his entire demeanor complacent and jeering in the face of her animosity. The bloody holes around his sternum had already scabbed over, and he appeared to be in minimal pain, possibly having tapped into his full healing capabilities. She cracked his unflappable façade, however, when she put out the cigarette along his clavicle. A wordless hiss escaped through his teeth, and his expression went taut, irises gleaming black.

Persephone discarded the cigarette butt and leaned toward him, feeling their body temperatures clash. "I know what you're doing," she murmured next to his ear. "Trying to make me look like a raving lunatic in front of my raiders. 'The mistress thinks the clone is talking now. She's completely lost it.' Right? Is that the wrench you hope to throw in the works?" Pure venom laced her words, winded around him, made him tense. "Here's the thing, you mongrel. They already know I'm insane."

His lips pressed together in a hard line when she drew back, the mocking look having changed to ominous contemplation. She smiled at him, icy and wicked. The palpable challenge crackled between them, a war declared through unspoken contempt. They sized each other up over a long span of minutes, and she searched for an opening, any sign of a weak point she could exploit. She recognized the way he did the same to her, his intellect far more developed than she had previously imagined.

Rustling movements began around them as the raiders shuffled back in apparent unease. None uttered a word, but their consternation permeated the entire hall. Gary swept his eyes over the onlookers before motioning with his head in the subtlest of actions.

"Gary," he intoned, communicating the wish for the others to clear out.

Persephone crossed her arms, her countenance unchanging. "No one is going anywhere. It's time my raiders learned the true purpose of our Capital excursion. You will talk here, in front of everyone."

He snorted. "Gary."

"Oh, you don't think so?" She retreated a few steps and gestured around them. "What, like you have anything to lose? Your fellow clones are all dead. Your Vault—your _home_ —is destroyed. You have nothing to go back to, and you're going to stand there smirking at me as if you have something left to protect?"

All traces of scorn disappeared as his features grew stony. "…Gary."

Her voice lowered to a snakelike resonance. "You're playing a pointless game. Wasting everyone's time. Don't act like you're some essential commodity that can make the calls, because even your usefulness has a limit. One that is fast approaching." She clasped her hands in front of her and widened her malicious smile. "Look at you. Thinking you're safe on a pedestal, trying to run me in circles, but you couldn't do a damn thing while I mowed through your brethren and left them to rot in that decaying Vault-Tec tomb."

"Wrong."

She quirked an eyebrow when Gary's manner finally switched back to his actual persona.

"The correct statement is I _didn't_ do a damn thing," he declared, his deep timbre reverberating throughout the hall.

Stunned murmurs spread out among the spectators. At his post by the Ninth Circle entrance, Charon shifted his weight, a known mannerism meant to disguise his agitation. Persephone placed her hands on her hips while the verbal noise around the area increased, her lips curving in satisfaction.

"There you are. About time," she told Gary, observing the way he held himself up straighter once he discarded the clueless clone act. "And it's interesting, what you just claimed. From your holotape entry, I thought the other Garys were under your guidance. Unless, somewhere along the way, Proserpina became your sole concern."

His stare intensified as his fingers wrapped around the chains shackling his wrists. "Exactly."

 _Speech pattern and syntax seem normal. No issues with fluency. Vocabulary is refined,_ Persephone noted to herself. _Can't believe he played the dumbass role for so long._

"So, seeing as I'm the original and the sole reason her existence is even possible, you owe me the full story on the project, and you will point me to her whereabouts," she stated, still carefully constructing her ensnaring web.

A muscle worked in Gary's jaw. "And if I don't know where she went?"

Persephone let out a sharp, humorless laugh. "You already gave yourself away. Your panic when I found the holotape. Your words in that log entry. Your offer of a ludicrous bargain when I first demanded information."

"Maybe I just wanted a degenerate queen on her knees, sucking me off," he drawled, his sneer returning as a multitude of depraved desires filled his gaze. "Are you sure you won't take the bargain? I might feel much more talkative with my cock down your throat."

The hall erupted in a riotous buzz as the raiders decried the profane jab thrown at their leader.

Persephone narrowed her eyes at the brazen captive. "You're revolting."

"And you loved it when my revolting self was pounding into your cunt, making you moan and writhe like an obscene marionette in my arms," Gary returned in a gruff tone, his sight raking over her body.

Charon stepped forward at that moment, arm poised to draw his shotgun.

"Stand down," Persephone rumbled at the ghoul, still facing her quarry. It took every ounce of self-control to maintain her composure, but even as the bloodlust roared in her veins, she resisted the urge to give in and gut the lewd clone. For the moment, at least. Stalking slowly around him, she asked, "And did Proserpina do the same when you had your way with her for years in that Vault?"

She noted how Gary's frame stiffened, a careless movement that revealed his lack of immunity to the tune of this mental dance.

"I still hear her sweet cries in my ears. Pleading, screaming… she always set my blood aflame," he said, low and guttural, as if the mere thought stirred his lust. "You, on the other hand… you're no Proserpina. But as a substitute, you will suffice."

Persephone halted mid-step behind him. "A _substitute_?"

He peered at her over his shoulder, a condescending quality in his eye. "Although you have her face, you're inferior by comparison. She and I are alpha-class clones, best suited for each other, meant to carry on and defy the boundaries of mortality. We were created as improvements over our originals. You're good in your own regard, _Queen_ Persephone, but you will never measure up."

Everything in the hall stopped as the bystanders held a collective breath. The space went dead silent, save for the internal ticking that traveled back and forth across her skull. Self-restraint cracked at the seams. Her fingers twitched in anticipation, seeking the flesh of his throat to rip out his vocal chords. Every cybernetic component within her powered up, and she forced herself to stay rooted on the spot as her vision switched to a virtual interface of power gauges and targeting meters. The inclination for murder sang in the back of her mind, but she willed it all back as she grasped at the opportunity he had blindly opened.

Persephone walked over to stand in front of him, the slow footfalls of her boots adding to the foreboding atmosphere. "This is rich. A replicated creature daring to tell me how I do and do not measure up to anything." She managed to conduct herself in a calm fashion even as tides of wrath simmered beneath her cool veneer. "Your entire existence is a farce. You're no better than the human-shaped machines they create in the Commonwealth. Everything about you is false and borrowed. An imitation will never compare to the original."

Gary's visage darkened. "You have no idea what we're capable of."

"I could say the same to you. The things I can and _will_ do to get what I want… I don't know what happened to your original, but _I_ sure as shit won't rest until Proserpina is dead," Persephone thundered, the proclamation ringing through the area. "It doesn't matter how either of you were designed. You're no match for actual humans. You're just a product, a knock-off, and I am _far_ superior."

"What you are is arrogant."

She scowled but inwardly felt a triumphant surge at the clear fractures growing in his controlled demeanor. "Arrogant, but also correct. I wiped out how many of you in Vault 108 alone? Four dozen? Five dozen? And you, their supposed 'leader,' were too busy trying to protect that crippled 27th bitch to save any of them. Not to mention that your so-called 'alpha-class' paramour ran for the hills when she got the chance. Whatever higher function you think you possess, you're a failure in every sense. So what are you going to do now?"

The chains clanged on the floor as his arms straightened at his sides, his hands flexing and closing into fists. He glared at her openly now, having taken her bait. "You'll regret underestimating me. I could run you into the ground if I wanted. Bleed you out on the concrete, violate your corpse before your thighs grow cold."

Persephone scoffed at that. "You really believe you can best me?"

"I'd wager it."

She bit back a vindictive laugh and motioned for the two nearest raiders to unshackle him. "Perfect."

Gary seemed to realize his error as soon as the chains fell from his wrists. He blinked in astonishment at first, a series of contrasting emotions flitting over his face as the raiders stepped back again. Then he lifted his gaze in Persephone's direction, pinning her with a look of both belligerence and grudging respect.

"A wager, then," she all but chortled, cracking her knuckles as she grinned spitefully at him. "We'll both put our money where our mouths are. One round, unarmed. I'll even omit my barkskin ability. Loser can yield, otherwise the winner can kill."

He tore off the remaining scraps of his jumpsuit top, revealing the fully healed wounds over his burly torso. "I've lived for almost two hundred years," he proclaimed as he rotated his shoulders and came to stand a few yards across from her. "I've maimed and murdered through several generations of your familial line. Are you sure you want to take me on in a physical fight?"

Charon's stance changed to one of hostility, but Persephone ignored him as her blood came alive with adrenaline.

She tossed away her studded leather gloves and gauntlets. "Proserpina may have been afraid of you, but I'm a completely different force of nature." At that moment, glowing red lines split her skin as her cybernetics flared to full activation. "If I win, you will tell me the truth—every minute, gory detail—of Project Proserpina and assist me in tracking her down. I might even let you force yourself on her one last time before I put a bullet in her head and a blade through her heart." A vicious cackle left her mouth. "Because I'm just that gracious and _so very_ kind."

Gary studied her, expression grim. "Fine. But if _I_ win, you will renounce your crown and throne, remove all of your cybernetics, and come back with me to Vault 108 to live out the rest of your days by my side."

"No," Charon snarled before Persephone could react.

"And as for you, ghoul," Gary jeered, swinging his attention to him, "you will never touch her, speak to her, or lay eyes on her again. Whether that means you stay away on your own or I kill you makes little difference to me."

Charon drew his shotgun and aimed it while stomping toward him, only for Persephone to place herself in the line of fire.

" _No one_ is to interfere. If I lose to this shit-talking abomination, I wasn't fit to lead you all, anyway," she snapped, reaching out to push the barrel of the shotgun aside. Then, lowering her voice, she added, "Your lack of faith in me is an insult, Charon."

He bared his teeth. "There's too much at stake here."

"Then bet on me to win," she growled and shoved him back toward his post. "I've died once already. I don't plan to do it again anytime soon."

"Persephone—"

"If you step in at any point before this is over, I will bind you to a new contract and donate you as a research subject to the Institute up north." She turned her back to him and approached her waiting opponent. "End of story."

He wasn't wrong, she acknowledged that much. A lot rode on this; everything she had built and forged hung on the throw of the dice. Even so, she knew very well where her strengths lay. To say she had obtained her current level of power using her bare hands wasn't an exaggeration. Organizations and societies had fallen before her, grinded to ash and dust when they stood in her path. She plowed a linear trail toward her goals for world emancipation, and if circumstances required her to gamble everything she had to progress forward, then she would.

She placed no worth in luck, anyway. A win or loss came through skill, and she had plenty of gambits up her sleeve.

Gary watched her in expectation. "So do we have a deal?"

Persephone readied herself as she felt the glowing red patterns form over her face. "Done."

He sent her a brief, nasty smile, and then disappeared in the blink of an eye.

She went on guard at once, clamping down on her surprise at his super speed. The hall grew still and quiet as everyone else froze. Her senses tuned to maximum sharpness, visual interface scanning her surroundings. She listened, waited for a disruption in the air.

A telltale breeze ghosted over the nape of her neck.

Persephone dodged the blow from behind, spinning around to counter with a strong right hook. Gary blocked her fist and jumped back, chest heaving as a smirk pulled at his lips. She charged at him, wasting no time, throwing test jabs at various points of his body to gauge his reflexes and defense. He parried each strike without difficulty, eyes alight as he analyzed her in turn. She began to see the extent of his endurance and regenerative ability, as every punch she landed left little more than a bruise that vanished after seconds.

 _Blunt damage is a no-go, then,_ she thought, evading the swing of his arm as he tried to clothesline her. _Unless I can break something. See how long it takes him to heal a fracture._

The hall spun around them as they clashed with increasing speed and ferocity. Voices rose to a tumultuous uproar, cheering and hollering, although a few sounded suspiciously in favor of her opponent. Gary managed to land a punch in her ribs, and she hissed an oath as the pain traveled over her ribcage before her reparative functions went to work. It was enough to slow her movements, and he took the opportunity to grasp her arm, using the momentum to swing her around and pitch her into the nearest wall.

The air rushed from Persephone's lungs at the impact, and she heard the crack of her left cheekbone when it crashed into the stone surface. Before she could recover, Gary's body slammed into hers from behind. He pinned her against the wall and seized her wrists, twisting them down at her sides.

"Does this feel familiar?" he whispered harshly in her ear, grinding his crotch into her backside as she thrashed beneath his weight. "This is what you'll be taking every day when I lock you in the Vault with me. Get used to it, because I'm not so easily sated."

"Remember one thing, cretin," she grunted, stilling for a fraction of a second. "I am not, nor will ever be, a victim."

Persephone pushed off from the wall with such force that it ripped Gary's hold from her and knocked him backwards. She caught his ankle with her boot, throwing him off balance and then pouncing on the same leg she had broken back in Vault 108. When he was angled just right in the middle of his fall, she stomped on the healed break in his fibula, sneering when it snapped again. He roared in agony as he hit the floor, and she leapt on him, intending to bring the match to a close right there.

However, she miscalculated the rate of his bone regeneration and found herself landing on empty concrete as he rolled away to hop back to his feet. Gary hovered a few yards to the right as she scrambled up, glowering at her while testing his mending leg. She noticed several new cuts on his chest and shoulders, zeroing in on the way they remained open due to the dust and grime particles obstructing the injury sites.

_There. I've fucking got you now._

Once Gary regained full use of his leg, he pulled the vanishing trick again. Persephone had already begun to memorize his movement patterns, but she realized her own overconfidence when she anticipated his attack from the wrong side. Swiveling to the left, she prepared to meet his next strike. Her stomach rose to her throat when he appeared at her five o'clock, and she failed to jump out of the way in time as he tackled her.

They both hit the ground hard, and he wrapped his hands around her head to slam the back of her skull into the solid floor. White hot stabs of pain shot through her cranium as stars exploded across her vision. He took advantage of her disorientation to straddle her, and, to the alarmed rancor of the spectators, tore her leather vest down the middle to expose the full glow of the cybernetics in her chest. His left arm held her down while the fingers of his other positioned themselves over her augmented hardware, so similar to how she had gouged her nails around his sternum just the day before.

"Yield now or I'll rip them out," Gary ordered, gaze burning with black heat and victory. "You won't survive the separation this way."

A flicker of astonishment darted through her at discovering herself on the losing end. She panted as her sight cleared, every prospective option firing across her consciousness in rapid succession. Among them, surrender still never ranked as a choice. Neither, for that matter, did death. She wouldn't settle for this outcome. Not now, not this way.

The gambits surged forth; her arsenal took over.

In a flash, she willed her cybernetics to shut down. The glowing lines disappeared from her skin and gave way to a restored, unblemished complexion. Her eyes lost their red color, reverting back to the natural green she'd had from birth. She softened her face to erase the creases of hatred and anger. Full lips parted to suck in a shaky breath. Her body stopped resisting, and her muscles relaxed as her entire character transformed into someone almost unrecognizable.

To Charon, her previous incarnation had surfaced. To Gary, her double had appeared in her place. To both, she had become that which was lost.

Gary's features twisted into shock.

Persephone lifted her hands toward his face when his grip on her loosened. She blinked up at him, brow furrowing to display intimidation and discomfort. Her palms went to his cheeks, warm to the touch, and she brushed her thumbs over his rough skin in a gesture of affection.

"Proserpina?" she mewed, her voice an octave higher. The ringing sweetness of her timbre filled the entire hall. "Proserpina?"

The hum of confused chatter sounded around them.

Gary drew back and swallowed, his eyes clouding over as he seemed to subject himself to the delusion. "What…?"

"Gary," she sighed, stroking his jawline.

He fought through some inner struggle as he confronted the staggering likeness, already halfway lost to his own wishful thinking. "Can't be…"

"Love me?"

The aggression left his frame in an instant. Still gawking at her, he released his hold and leaned toward her lips. "I…"

Her expression twisted into a satanic smile.

Persephone seized his neck and threw him to the side, catching him off-guard as she rolled after him and reversed their positions. She straddled his waist while her cybernetics flared back to life, and, with crazed abandon, bent down to ensure his loss. Her teeth clamped onto his throat and bit hard into skin and tissue. Blood spilled into her mouth as he made a strangled noise, and she chewed into as much as she could before tearing his throat open. Lifting her head to spit out the sundered matter to the side, she jammed her fingers into the gaping hole in his neck to prevent his regenerative ability from rebuilding the flesh.

"Pathetic fool!" she bellowed, teeth stained with warm crimson that dripped down her chin. "I can't believe that actually worked. You were so close to winning, too. What a travesty, you pitiful dumbfuck. Where are your alpha-class capabilities now?"

Gary stared up at her, wide-eyed and gurgling as blood seeped into the ground below him.

"Now choose. Either yield and hold up your end of the deal or die and never see your beloved Proserpina again. Which will it be?"

As he lay gasping for breath, an alteration occurred in his countenance—some hint of veneration for the way she had played him. With mere seconds to spare, the decision came forward. In a hoarse whisper, he rasped out one word. "Yield."

Persephone tilted her chin and momentarily locked gazes with Charon, who stood with a look close to awe from the other end of the floor.

She removed her digits from Gary's throat, satisfied. "Good. And now you know better. Never threaten my crown."

x-x-x-x-x

The dim interior of her quarters shrouded them in hues of dark orange and black. Persephone leaned against the post of her bed, arms folded over her chest as she and Charon watched Gary wipe the remaining blood from his neck with a damp towel. The silence throughout the building foreshadowed the calm before the storm, joined by the tension thickening the air, a herald for dire things to come.

"Before we begin, I will say one thing," Gary remarked, running the pads of his fingers over the repaired skin of his neck. "Original or not, you aren't someone to contend with. Even to me, your ferocity is unmatched. It's something to admire."

"I don't need your admiration, clone," Persephone barked. "I just need you to start talking."

He took a seat on her desk chair and draped the soiled towel over his knee. "I've observed you in the time you've kept me in captivity, studied your role and position. I never would have guessed I'd meet the original Persephone after losing Proserpina. You're nothing like your replications. You're fiercer. Smarter." He grinned at her in lascivious appreciation. "Sexier."

Charon released an audible growl of warning.

Persephone didn't berate him this time as she scowled at Gary. "And you're still my captive whose life is hanging by a very thin thread. Enough with your stalling. Tell me everything you know about my illicit living copy."

Gary raised an eyebrow. "Living copy? You talk quite a bit about the superiority of natural humans, but what percentage of you is still flesh and blood? How much of it is machine?"

"My augmentations are not up for discussion," she snapped, her temper sailing toward the breaking point. "Are you really that incapable of sticking with the subject, or are you fishing for a violent death after all?"

"This isn't off-topic. I ask because she had something you lack," Gary declared, holding up a hand when she took a hostile step toward him. "You have your level of power because of your synthetic enhancements. She had her level of power because she was created with it."

Persephone drew herself to her full height in an automatic, intimidating reaction. " _What_ power? She sounds like a naïve, cowardly twat from what everything has implied."

"Well then, who am I to refute the implications?" Gary drawled, leaning back in the chair and taking on a languid pose. "But you should know… there was something about her. Some innate trait; a hidden power. If I were you, I'd be cautious when hunting her down. Underneath her fragile exterior, she has already surpassed you."

Persephone gripped the bedpost as her blood pressure rose, crushing the wood to fragments in her palm. "Impossible. Whatever strain she carries is derived from me," she seethed, thinking back to the progress logs in the holotape. "The Enclave pursued it, centered the clone development around it. They worked until they produced one viable carrier. Note: carrier, not end result. So therein lies the question. If she wasn't the final outcome, what was the true purpose of Project Proserpina?"

Gary paused before leaning forward again, his irises glinting through the shadows. "The progeny of two superhuman beings. You're right. She was only one of the last steps. The Enclave's vision spanned a broader picture, and I'm the one who was given the task." A scorching gaze, a baleful smirk. "To breed with her."

Everything else around them died down to nothing. Their eyes contested in a quiet blaze. And when Persephone's face hardened to stone, he shot her a malevolent look of self-satisfaction.

"So I did."


	6. Chapter 6

** God of the Legion **

_She stirred and sighed into the pillow, feeling Charon’s arms around her tighten at once._

_“You haven’t slept yet,” he stated from behind her, words spoken into the long waves of her chestnut brown hair._

_“Must be because we’re spending the night in the Citadel barracks instead of the Megaton house,” she tried to quip, but her airy laugh sounded hollow as she stared into the dimness straight ahead. “Granted, we got the private room, but I can’t relax in this place. When the knights aren’t yelling at the initiates, they’re snoring up a chorus down the hall.”_

_“Or is it the battle tomorrow that keeps you up?”_

_She refrained from answering as the familiar winding sensation formed in her gut._

_“The Brotherhood will help you take back Project Purity. Your father’s death was not in vain.”_

_She swallowed the lump of emotion that rose in her throat, pushing herself into a sitting position. His arms slid down her bare torso as she did, the contact of his skin against hers lacking its usual comforting quality. A tangible feeling of trepidation and finality persisted in the back of her mind, woven through her thoughts and anchored to her psyche._

_She dropped her head in her hands and took a deep breath. “I’m not sure I can do this without him…”_

_The sheets rustled as Charon sat up as well, and a long silence followed as he seemed to search for the right words. “You can. You will.” A brief pause. “You must.”_

_Her gaze drifted forward in the dark room. “I know.”_

_The mantra circled within her, a perpetual reminder to finish this. Change had been the dream she shared with her parents. And now, the task of breathing life back into the Wasteland had fallen solely into her hands. The notion worried her, terrified her, but there was only one direction to go on this road._

_Charon’s fingertips grazed her shoulder, his touch seeping in to warm her spirit. “He did what he could. Now it’s your turn.”_

_She rubbed her forehead and sat up straighter. “My ultimate goal, right? Everything has led up to this. I don’t know what will happen, but I’ll try my damnedest to succeed.”_

_He took her chin and tilted it toward him, showing her the trust and support in his eyes. “Don’t try. Just do.”_

_Despite herself, she felt the corner of her mouth lift. “You’re that confident in some Vault-raised smoothskin leading the charge to take back the purifier?”_

_He seemed to miss her teasing note as he gave her a blank stare. “Yes?”_

_Now she did smile. Rotating to wrap her arms around his neck, she drew herself against his rough chest. “As long as you’re with me.”_

_Less than half a year after they had met, a fated bond had tied them together. Through hardships, they weathered on. Through danger, they relied on each other. No matter the path or the trial, they walked side by side toward the belly of the beast._

_“You released me from my contract. But I will not leave you.” He held her close, the embrace of a lover. “You’ll alter the Capital. After that, all of the Wastes. You were born to do this.”_

_Persephone nodded, all fears receding as her destiny loomed on the horizon. “I will save the world.”_

She woke to the stillness of her quarters, muscles taut and breath short as the dream lingered above the depths of her subconscious. A rush of ire chased it away, and she muttered a curse while fuming over the significance of the recollection. The past had no place in her thoughts, nocturnal or otherwise. She had never lost the memories, but she detested reliving them. Her mindset allowed no room for backwards glances, especially not at herself in a life she’d left behind.

Outside her doors, a brush of movement disrupted the air. She could sense his presence from a mile away, and at this range, she knew he was listening. Guarding. The distance he maintained marked the stark contrast in their relationship now compared to before. An expected transition, considering that much more than just years had passed. Still, having just recounted a glimpse of their history, she took a moment to regard the difference. Abuse and irreparable ruin. That was what she had done to their bond.

But as one who had lost her soul, she couldn’t bring herself to care. Something bigger than them awaited. She would never stray from her focus. The resulting carnage may very well rend the land asunder. It was only a matter of time before he defected.

Rolling back over, she spent the rest of the night descending further into her own madness.

 _I_ will _save the world. But I will do it_ my _way._

x-x-x-x-x

At the break of dawn, he entered her quarters.

She watched him in the mirror, already half-dressed in front of the vanity. Holding his gaze, she ran the razor across the left side of her skull, shaving off the regrowth of hair in that section. He said nothing, only observed as she finished her grooming task. Once she set down her tools, she scratched at the scar over her left eye and cheekbone, reopening the wound to prevent her healing ability from fading the mark.

“Everything in order?” she asked, at last addressing his presence.

Charon gave her a short nod.

“Good. Have the raiders put the slaves to work on the consoles today. I want hard copies of all the research we’ve conducted here thus far.”

He hesitated, seeming to catch on to the insinuation. “We’re preparing to leave?”

“Possibly.”

“The clone hasn’t disclosed your double’s location.”

She scowled at the thought of the smug man who had lured her into another stalemate. “Right, but he revealed that he _does_ know where she went. That’s his leverage for keeping me from disposing of him, especially now that I know he’s conceived with her. Fuck. This shit just keeps getting worse. I _cannot_ let that spawn live.”

Charon trudged forward, coming to stand next to her. “You don’t need him. Your influence stretches from the Capital to the Pitt. The project and clones are no secret anymore. You have the numbers to order a search effort for her.”

“No. That’s only as a last resort,” Persephone told him, gritting her teeth when the puzzlement darted across his face. “I want a straight shot at finding her. No guessing game, no wasted resources. One direct route.”

He lapsed back into silence, the question written in his furrowed brow. As she peered at him, an impulse gnawed at her, sudden and unwelcome. It spread across her nerves, possibly stemming from the dream the night before. She remembered the days long gone, back before everything had warped. And maybe because of this, she went against her own word on never divulging her inner workings.

When it came to Charon, perhaps she could make an exception.

“If we don’t have a clear lead, I need most of my forces concentrated on the Pitt.” She rose to her feet, visage grim as the veracities surfaced. “Despite my outward apathy, something important there needs guarding.”

Comprehension dawned on him in slow progression, but once it clicked, he wiped all expression from his countenance. Even with the neutral look, however, she could still see the translucent conflict volleying back and forth beneath his exterior.

 _It’s exactly how it sounds. I_ am _willing to eliminate another female’s offspring in order to protect my own._

“With that said, I will need Gary as more than a compass,” Persephone declared, grabbing the vest draped over her chair and slipping it on. “The tests on his physiology have proven his DNA is valuable.”

“Clone DNA?” Charon surmised before he came to the answer on his own. “The healing and longevity.”

“I want samples of it sent to the Pitt. Specifically, I want you to deliver them.”

Charon stiffened, but refrained from argument. “Will he cooperate?”

She drummed her nails on the edge of her vanity table as she considered it. “I’ll play it by ear. But if he doesn’t, do what you have to do.”

He went still, glassy eyes narrowing as her words hovered in the air. “Is… that permission?”

“We’ll see,” she replied, the inflection of her voice firm. “He’s going to try to negotiate his position. I’ve given myself until the end of today to extract the info I need while making him believe he’s succeeded.”

“It will be harder to manipulate him a third time.”

“A more satisfying challenge, then. I can handle it.”

Charon studied her. “You’ve added more steps to your plans. But everything you do here has an echo. I know you want to go home.” Then, as full understanding hit, his gaze bore into her. “The DNA. You’re looking to create a cure. For the boy?”

Persephone shifted her line of sight to the far wall, her jaw hardening as she thought of the strain, the mutation she carried—the source of both her power and her problems.

“Who do you think I’m doing all this for?” she intoned as Orion’s image flashed across her working memory. “This is an empire I’m building. A world I’m liberating. For everyone’s sake—human, ghoul, super mutant, et cetera. And while I’m out here trying to secure that future, I have a dying heir in the heart of the Pitt.”

x-x-x-x-x

The state of the Ninth Circle appeared twice as dilapidated as it did the last time she had entered the premises. Empty liquor bottles lay scattered over every available surface, infusing the air with the permanent smell of alcohol. She scanned the vacant area before kicking a path to the bar corner, where the broken radio sat in pieces amidst cigarette butts and dirty shot glasses. The skeletal remains of Ahzrukhal littered the floor behind the counter, never having been removed in the years since Charon had gunned him down. She glanced at the pile of bones under the dirty businesswear and crushed the skull under her boot on her way to Jericho’s leftover whiskey stash.

Grabbing an unopened bottle from the shelf, she pried off the top and took a long swig. The standard commotion of raiders shouting orders at slaves resonated through the lobby. She heard the routine, the normalcy, but unbeknownst to the others, she also heard the tides of change encroaching on them all.

After she replaced the whiskey, her sight roved around the room and landed on Charon’s old corner, where they had met for the first time. It seemed a lifetime ago, that initial encounter. Almost as if a completely different set of people had existed at that point. In many ways, that was true. And she had no intention of reverting.

…She told herself that, yet the subject occupied her mind on a basis too frequent for her liking.

A set of footsteps approached from the staircase outside, pulling her out of her reverie. As her gaze flickered to the main entrance, she moved around the counter to stand in front of it and wait. Seconds later, the doors opened, and Gary—all healed and cleaned up—sauntered inside.

The spare raider throwdown armor he wore lent him a more imposing presence. His self-assured gait radiated with cockiness, and the devilish smile he sent her incited a wave of vexation that coursed through her system. Here strode a living anomaly she would never have identified that fateful day in Vault 108. He had discarded all manner of façade now that he walked free among them—an unbound prisoner holding a bargaining chip.

“So, how goes your nefarious plotting?” he inquired, coming to a halt before her. When he peered around the bar and noticed Charon’s absence, he sidled closer and loomed over her shorter form. “Where’s your necrotic manservant? Or did you just want to be alone with me?”

Persephone shoved him back when he tried to wrap his arm around her waist. “I may be deranged, but I’m not that far gone. You’ll have to hope for me to become manic and drugged up again because I’m not touching you otherwise, clone,” she spat.

Gary only leered at her and shrugged, the motion lifting the spiked pauldrons on his broad shoulders. “Whatever you say. Though the fact that you keep labeling yourself as crazy makes me think you really aren’t,” he told her, crossing his arms. “Without insanity to lean on, where does that leave you?” At her outraged glower, he bent closer. “Perverse and evil. That’s who you really are.”

A flash of red blazed across her vision as she swiped her razor-like nails across the exposed skin of his abdomen, right below his cropped metal breastplate. He grunted and took a few steps back, allowing the slashes to bleed before they mended themselves.

“You know what? Even if you were accurate,” Persephone rumbled in a low, malicious tone, “I’m perfectly all right with that characterization.”

Gary cocked his head to the side and sent her a caustic smile. “Brutal to the bone. Don’t misunderstand. I like it.”

She curled her lip at him, flicking away the bits of flesh from under her nails. “Mouthing off and strutting around as you are, you forget you’re still my captive.”

“Hardly, but I’m curious. You aren’t worried I’ll just sprint out the door now that you’ve taken me off the leash?”

“Try it. You’ll be tackled or shot,” she drawled, eyes shifting to the entrance when it opened again. “Both if Charon is the one to catch you.”

The ghoul entered the Ninth Circle as if on cue, clashing glares with Gary as he made his way to Persephone’s side.

“And the ghoul-slave appears,” Gary commented tersely, his bearing now rigid, a deep frown on his face. “So it’s onto business now, eh? We didn’t even have a chance for foreplay, Persephone.”

She disregarded his jeering and leaned back against the counter. “You and I both know where we stand. I will neither kill nor release you until you give up Proserpina’s location. But I’m not going to wait forever. So hurry up and name your price.”

“You do realize you’re asking me to sell out the woman I feel strongly for—who, by the way, is carrying my child—so you can hunt her down, right?”

“I am not asking. I’m _telling_ you, and you _will_ comply,” Persephone snapped. “Because if you don’t, then you’re nothing but a waste of space, and I will exterminate you accordingly.”

“Well, I wouldn’t want that. Your threats don’t faze me, but I’d like to avoid the hassle that comes with standing too long in your way,” Gary remarked, sending her a vindictive grin. “As for my price—it’s simple, really. I want to join your ranks.”

The declaration gave both Persephone and Charon pause. Enlistment? This was his plan? It had sabotage written all over it, foreshadowing disaster and peril should she agree. Still, she scrutinized his expression, seeking out his underlying motives.

“Why?”

“You said it yourself. I have nothing to go back to,” he stated matter-of-factly. “And I have something you need that requires you to keep me around, anyway.”

“What kind of imbecile do you take me for?” Persephone growled. “Allowing you a place among us is like swallowing a live grenade. This isn’t a price you’re naming, it’s a blatant attempt to install yourself as a volatile hazard on my regime.”

The outward show of indignation helped to convey the appropriate response to his request. However, inside, the wheels had begun turning, and she instigated the drafting of the trap that would bring this deadlock to an end. The outcome of his proposition mattered little in the grand scheme of things; intelligent as he had proven to be, she was the one who possessed a ruthless, unshackled mind.

“If you bring me onboard, I’ll be your guide straight to Proserpina,” Gary asserted, nodding when she shot him a suspicious look. “That’s right. Despite all I’ve said about her, I’m willing to seal her fate, _and_ the child's, in exchange for a place by your side. But,” he continued as she prepared to call bullshit, “not just any place. _His_ place.”

Charon bared his teeth when Gary pointed at him, his entire frame growing hostile as he took a menacing step forward.

Persephone brought up an arm to hold him back, but she fixed her stone-cold gaze on the man standing opposite from them. “That’s a hefty stipulation you’re trying to impose.”

Gary inclined his head, the makings of a smirk on his lips. “Ancient culture is lost to you people living in this time, but the parallels of your name and reign to that of a mythological legend are either fate or wild fortune. You’re Persephone, queen of the Underworld, and I’d be mad not to wish for a part in your dominion. Not as a lowly ranked servant or prisoner—I think I’ve proven myself worthy to stand as your equal. I want that place at your side. I want your hand as your king.” His smile accompanied the searing gleam in his eyes. “Let me be your Hades.”

She stared at him, silent, torn between snarling and guffawing. Whatever he was rambling about, he suddenly looked more like a lunatic than she did. Even so, she seized the opportunity.

“If you think I’m going to catapult you to a position of power next to me, you’re not only sorely mistaken, you’re a fucking idiot. Charon is my right hand for a reason, and there will be no ‘kings’ in my territory,” she declared, weaving the web as she straightened and lifted her chin. “But with that said, my left hand is vacant. I rarely ever compromise, and I’m offering only once. I suggest you take it.”

Charon whirled on her, tense and on edge. “You aren’t serious.”

Persephone noticed Gary perk up at the potential conflict between them. She waved a dismissive hand toward Charon, playing her part. “I’m willing to do what it takes to hunt down my double. If that means situating this clone on my other side to lead the search, then it will be done.”

Gary positively sneered at the fury twisting Charon’s features. “I’m glad we could come to an agreement.”

“Oh, not so fast,” she crooned. “You didn’t think it would be that straightforward, did you?”

He let out an exaggerated sigh. “Of course not.”

“I need to be sure of your endurance for long-distance travel. Even you don’t know if you’ll be able to survive the Wasteland outside the Capital.”

Gary’s eyebrows lifted. “Is that really a concern? You’ve seen my abilities. It shouldn’t even be a question. A journey across the country won't be a problem.”

Persephone grasped at the hint he had so carelessly shared. _So that confirms Proserpina fled far from the Capital._ “You were in a Vault for two centuries. Different environments could wreak havoc on an inorganic human’s chemical makeup. The last thing I need is my guide disintegrating in the middle of the northern radiation storms or under the full sun on the coasts.”

“Good thing we’re not headed to any of those areas, then,” he said, his attention straying to Charon, who appeared beyond livid. “You’re at higher risk of losing your ghoul here to spontaneous combustion. From rage-fueled internal heat, though, rather than from the environment.”

She glanced between them, glad for the way Charon distracted Gary from critical thinking. _Narrowing it down… just a little more to go._ “Don’t be too confident. The cloning technology with which you were created didn’t take a two hundred-year Wasteland into account.”

“I’m sure I can handle desert and vice.”

The spinning web came to a halt, and she smiled to herself, commending her own tactics. _Tsk, tsk, how careless… and with that, you gave it away._

Disguising her look of victory, she folded her arms over her chest. “Even if you’re sure, testing is in order. A quick trip to my base up north, a few vials of blood. Nothing extensive. My top scientists are there, and they’ll determine the viability of your DNA. Will you agree to it?”

Gary peered at her. “You’re not letting up on this, are you? All right, then. But you’re wasting your own time.”

“I can live with it. This is turning out to be less excruciating than I had anticipated.” Persephone turned to Charon, who simmered down when he saw the glee dancing in her eyes. “Escort him to the Pitt.”

“Wait. You won’t be coming? And you’re expecting me to travel with him?” Gary demanded in distaste.

“You will turn right around and come back this way after the tests. I need to be here to start packing things up. The faster you get your ass to the Pitt and back, the faster we can set out.”

He appeared reluctant, but didn’t refuse.

Drawing closer to Charon, she reached out and wrapped her fingers around his forearm to give it a meaningful squeeze. “Make sure Wernher gets the samples. This is the one important task I’m entrusting to you.”

He regarded her with a veiled intensity, switching back from his performance of anger. “Any orders on the process?”

The look she sent him said everything he needed to know. “Whatever you have to do.”

For the first time in years, he appeared pleased to obey. “As you wish.”

x-x-x-x-x

She stood facing the opposite way from usual, staring at the construction of jagged steel in the center of the great hall. An offshoot of her official seat, it symbolized her supremacy. Master, queen, and crown. She had earned these mantles by bloodying her hands. A necessary stain. Progress required sacrifice. She herself had already made plenty. Now the rest had to give their share. To free oneself of chains, one had to bleed for it. None would come out of this unscathed, but only the end result mattered.

They would thank her one day.

_“Think what you will. You may very well have to burn for them to realize the truth.”_

She remained motionless, undaunted by the flames. _So be it._

Without warning, streaks of red light tore through her skin as she summoned the full extent of her strength. Rearing back a fist, she grinned wildly and drove it into the middle of the throne. A deafening crash rocked the grounds of Underworld as bits of metal pieces shot in every direction, some embedding into her flesh. The eminent seat collapsed in a broken heap, and she withdrew her bloody, maimed fist to gaze upon the beginnings of her steel empire’s renovation.

Rotating, she addressed the stunned Pitt raiders in full attendance for her announcement.

“We’ll be gathering our forces and heading west. You have long considered my workings a mystery, but know that everything I do is for your benefit. This world is a puppet at the mercy of its strings, and I aim to free it so you can all choose your own destinies. To do that, the elimination of my double, Proserpina, is crucial.” She presented them with the maniacal smile of a demented but powerful queen. “It’s time to relocate my jagged steel throne. I’m going to bring war to the Mojave. New Vegas had better prepare.”

x-x-x-x-x

**_Epilogue_ **

The Courier towered over the corpse of Caesar, looking out at the sea of silent legionaries paralyzed across the grounds of the Fort. The walls of Caesar’s tent had fallen, and she and her allies stood in the center, feeling the combination of shock and fear pressing in around them. Only the wind filled the tense hush for several minutes, broken when she dropped the sword she had used to prove Caesar’s mortal heart had not been bestowed by the gods.

“Now that we have your attention,” Arcade began in a loud voice, addressing the members of the Legion, “this is how things will go from here. As you can see, your former leader is done and dead, and there was nothing about him that even hinted at his connection to any deities.”

Many stares of resentment and hatred pierced into him, but not one legionary raised his spear.

“This Legion is no longer Caesar’s, and it won’t reflect his ideals anymore,” Arcade continued. “If you can’t handle that, we’re not tyrants. You’re free to go. And free to come back to try and kill us, but you can probably guess how that will turn out.”

Almost all eyes snapped to the Courier then, and she stiffened in reflex as a surge of energy flowed across her fingertips. Next to her, Cass roved the barrel of her shotgun over the masses, and Boone did the same of his rifle from her other side. Veronica stepped closer to her in a protective gesture, but the Courier held her own, calculating the number of conversions verses the amount of bloodshed that would follow this moment.

Arcade paced in front, his usual lab coat having been replaced by leather armor. “If you stay, you’ll have to reform. You’ll still be Legion, under Legion colors, but under a different banner.” He stopped and gestured to the Courier, wisps her of her chestnut brown hair blowing in the breeze. “ _This_ is your new leader. A woman. You’ve seen for yourselves what kind of power she has. You’ve seen how none of your attacks have been able to kill her.”

She felt the energy again, this time throughout her limbs, and her green eyes swept over all the conflicted expressions aimed in her direction.

“This is now her Legion. That seat is now her throne. Follow her or not, but know that she has a plan and a purpose. She operates on honor, and she’s going to save the Mojave from tearing itself apart. If you disagree with that, now is your chance to leave.” Arcade crossed his arms when a third of the crowd turned away. “But you want the frank truth? You thought you’d been following the son of Mars. She’s the higher power here. No one will stand a chance against her.”

Some of the legionaries halted, but others kept on walking. Arcade faced her then, motioning for her to take over. She bit her lip, but Veronica placed a supportive hand on her arm.

“Be confident. You’ve learned so much already. You can do this. Show them why you’re a leader,” the scribe whispered.

The Courier nodded and pushed her long braid back behind her shoulder. Stepping over Caesar’s body, she lifted her hands and sent a series of telekinetic blasts over the crowd, earning startled shouts as another wave of tents collapsed across the Fort. The winds changed at her beckoning, obeying her willful command. A steady hum sounded in the aftermath, and she lowered her arms after the demonstration of her psionic abilities.

“I am Proserpina, and here I carry the son of Pluto,” she proclaimed, hands coming to her swollen belly as she felt the baby kick. She watched the disbelief and understanding grow and reflect in the various faces of the legionaries. “This Legion will now become part of my Underworld. I will save this Wasteland and bring peace across the factions. I only ask that you swear fealty to me, for I am your true god.”

  
  



End file.
